


Safe and Sound

by amanderjean



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: High School, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Religious Themes, Rhett spends a lot of time in his own head, Slow Burn, a lot of hand-wringing but a lot of heart eyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/pseuds/amanderjean
Summary: Understanding licked at the edges of his mind, but he held it back, praying his father would stop talking, let his concerns go; Rhett didn’t want him to say the words out loud.But of course, he went on. “I’m concerned that you could put yourself in a dangerous situation, son. Inadvertently. You two are very close, and if you put yourselves in an environment that’s unfamiliar and emotionally charged — as is to be imagined, starting this new phase of life — you could get in over your head. You could put yourself in temptation’s way.”Rhett scoffed, desperately fending off his embarrassment. “Dad, come on, it’s not — it’s Link, for God’s sake.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags for this chapter only: self-inflicted injury and blood. That's right, folks, it's the blood oath.
> 
> Thank you as always to my dearest loves, my saltiest bees, [Rachelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/pseuds/MythicallySnappy) and [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision), for unconditional love and precise and thoughtful editing. Without both of you this story would most likely have never seen the light of day. I love you both forever.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction based on imagined renderings of real people, and is not meant to imply any actual knowledge of the beliefs, behaviors, or values of any of the characters mentioned. I’m probably projecting, honestly. 
> 
> _______________________
> 
> Christian spirituality and concepts of faith, theology, sin and will be major themes throughout the story. There will be some religiously-motived homophobia, both internal and external. This is Rhett's POV, and given their upbringing and his introspective nature, it feels realistic and appropriate to broach these topics. I understand this may be uncomfortable or triggering for some people, and I'm happy to go into more detail about plot elements that deal with these themes if you are wary of reading.
> 
> The opinions about homosexuality and LGBTQ+ identities expressed by some characters (and for a large portion, Rhett himself) in this fic are not opinions that I condone or share. I've studied a lot of scripture and theology and I truly believe homophobia is theologically unsound and downright sinful, and that LGBTQ+ identities and lifestyles are completely compatible with Christian doctrine and anyone's personal faith journey. However I do believe that these teachings and ideologies are consistent with the time and culture that the story takes place in, and I want to portray the events of the story both accurately and sensitively.
> 
> Please let me know if you want me to tag or note anything else for this or any future chapters. I'm more than happy to accommodate for anyone's particular needs.

_April 1994_

“We’re golden together, man! I just know it: we’re gonna do something huge, something awesome, and we’re gonna do it together.”

Rhett knew he was talking too loud, gesticulating too wildly, that Link wasn’t really taking him seriously (that infuriating smirk firmly planted on his face), but he couldn’t help it. He felt their future all around them, in the very air he breathed, not tainted by the smell of manure or the distant sounds of cows from the pasture. The day was bright, spring in full force, still free from the blanket of humidity that covered the Southeast all summer long. He knew his mood was lifted by the good weather and the promise of another summer just around the corner; time to work a little, earn some money, and mostly dream and explore with his best friend, who sat facing him on a smaller rock next to the pond. He felt his enthusiasm pouring out of him, like a hundred helium balloons, threatening to float him away if he wasn’t tethered to Link, firmly grounded, solid and sure.

He lost a tiny bit of steam when Link didn’t immediately respond, smirk settling into a thoughtful twist of his lips. Rhett sat down on the boulder, still sitting well above Link, who was sprawled on the lower rock, his limbs thin and gangly at fifteen. Link always took so long to reply, always trying to bend the rules of the rocks: big rock talks, small rock listens and questions. He himself had come up with them, and yet always curated the conversation with carefully worded questions that were never really questions, unable to prevent his opinions or intentions from steering their discussions. Rhett never minded, he wanted Link’s thoughts, his ideas; they had always sharpened and clarified his own, purifying heat to rough coals. It was this very dynamic that made him so excited — he imagined so many futures for himself, each one grand and lush, each one with his best friend firmly at his side.

“What exactly does this big and awesome thing look like?” Link finally asked, eyes sparkling, clearly amused at Rhett’s zeal.

Rhett smiled wider. “Who knows, man? The options are endless. We could make movies. Or music videos. Be rock stars! You know whatever we do’ll be amazing.”

Link laughed heartily, throwing his head back, exposing his prominent Adam’s apple. Rhett fleetingly wondered if Link would eventually grow into it, if the protrusion would melt back into his neck once puberty had run its course. Rhett secretly hoped not; he often felt the urge to gently press it and would miss the impulse.

“Rock stars? We don’t even play instruments, man. And is there some big rock scene in Harnett County I don’t know about?” Link couldn’t hide his wide smile, his glee at knocking Rhett’s ambitions down a bit. Yet it only drove Rhett wilder, only stoked the fire in his gut.

He clapped his hands on his knees, leaning forward, his excitement propelling him forward. “Who says we’re going to stay here? We’re too big for this place, man. We’ll move to Nashville. Or New York. Los Angeles!”

Link laughed louder, leaning forward, hands clutching his stomach. His head tipped forward, exposing the lone line of his neck, and Rhett thought briefly of tickling him right along his hairline.  “Yeah, ok, where do you think we’d have to best shot? I vote California, myself. Who should star in our first movie? Meg Ryan? Bruce Willis?” Link shook his head, smiling up affectionately at Rhett; he was only ribbing, only teasing, never harsh enough to dull Rhett’s spark, only focusing the energy. “Seriously, though, man, do you really think we could do something like that? Leave here, go off and go all Hollywood? Chase some vague ‘something awesome?’”

“Yes. I do. I really do.” Rhett reached his hands up in supplication. “I think we could do anything, as long as we do it together. We’re meant for something big, I can feel it. Can’t you feel it?” He looked right at Link, pleading, begging him to understand. Link’s face turned up to his, softening, and Rhett knew he was in, he was convinced, his wagon was hitched. Rhett always got him in the end.

Link nodded, suddenly thoughtful. “Ok, so, what do you want to do about it?”

Rhett paused. He hadn’t thought about what they could do now, in this moment. The plans were out there, ahead of him, a focal point to run towards. He pursed his lips. “We’ll make a promise. When we’re older, whatever we do, we’ll do it together.”

Link’s most shining grin appeared, taking up nearly the entirety of his face. Rhett smiled back, excitement mounting as he realized Link was going in the same direction as him. “Well, we better make it official, then.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Link reached for his backpack, unzipping it. “Let’s make it official. Write it down, sign our names. Like a contract.”

Rhett’s eyes widened, thrilled. He pointed a finger skyward. “Like an oath!”

“Ok, an oath, then. Always so dramatic,” Link conceded, rummaging, finally pulling out two pens and two pages from a notebook, edges ripped. He handed one pen and piece of paper to Rhett, settling back down onto the rock, prepping to write. “And what should the terms of our official, everlasting oath be, good sir?”

Rhett started writing, thoughts barely floating through his mind before hitting the paper. “I, Rhett James McLaughlin, swear that whatever the future brings, my best friend will be by my side.”

Link nodded, repeating him. “I, Charles Lincoln Neal — “

“The Third.”

“ — The Third, swear that whatever the future brings, my best friend will be by my side.”

Rhett, invigorated, continued, hardly even writing within the lines. “I swear that Charles Lincoln Neal the Third and I will make something big, something awesome, and we will do that big, awesome thing together.”

Link continued to nod, repeating Rhett’s declaration, writing slower, neater. “Is that it?”

Rhett nodded, then stopped, an idea striking. “We should sign it in blood.”

“What?” Link whipped his head up, eyes wide and anxious. “Blood? Why blood?”

“You said it yourself! We need it to be official. This makes it more than official — we are swearing a solemn oath, man! This way we won’t be able to get out of it.”

Rhett could feel the indignation coming off of his friend, his reservations and his nerves. He knew Link was squeamish around blood, once even fainted when a sharp rock gave him a long cut down his calf at the river; he also knew that made it all the more monumental. They would literally pour themselves into this promise to ensure it was kept. It was a seal on their friendship and their future. Rhett maintained eye contact, silently pleading, determined to convince his friend to agree.

Finally, after a full minute of silence, Link sighed, clearly pained. “Fine. Seriously, man, with the drama. We’ll sign our names in freaking blood.”

Rhett clapped his hands together, shouting in triumph. “Yes! You’ll see, it’ll feel way more important this way.” Rhett jumped down from the boulder, eyes searching the ground. “Do you have a knife or anything? To cut ourselves?”

“No, I don’t carry a knife around. Do you really think I would?”

Rhett snorted. “Nah, man, you’d slice yourself with it on a daily basis.” He looked around the soft mud near the edge of the pond, searching for a sharp rock or something else that would break skin. He eventually saw something glint in the sun, mostly buried, and when he reached for it he saw it was a piece of what must have been a glass bottle, jagged and dirty. He pulled it out of the ground, and bent over the water, washing it off the best he could.

“Oh, man, that’s nasty! We’ll get hepatitis or something if we use that.” Link cringed, mouth turned up in disgust.

“Good thing your mom’s a nurse, she’ll fix us right up.” Rhett smirked, deciding the glass was as clean as it was going to get. He settled onto the smaller rock, sitting right across from Link, legs crossed. Their knees were brushing, no space between them. “Now give me your hand.” He reached out, as Link pulled his hand back.

“Why do I have to go first?”

“Because if you see me do it, you’ll back out. Now come on, give me your hand, I’ll be gentle.” He wiggled his eyebrows, silly, giddy.

Link glared at him, stubbornness slowly fading. He slowly presented his right hand to Rhett, palm open, shaking.

“Ok, close your eyes. And don’t pass out.” Rhett held Link’s hand in his own, skin warm against his own. He gripped it enough to soothe the tremors, calming his friend with his strength. He looked up once at Link, eyes shut so tight, breathing shallow, before he turned his attention to his friend’s palm, placed the glass against his skin. He felt Link tense up, and rubbed his thumb along the soft skin there, reassuring, gentle. He applied pressure, slowly, gradually, until he broke through. Link hissed through his teeth, breath uneven, eyes clenching even tighter. Rhett dragged the glass across his skin, making a cut about an inch long. Blood began to pool from the wound, slowly, then with more force.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’ll tell you when I’m done.” Rhett repeated the motions on his left palm, more forceful with himself than he was with Link. His cut was deeper, and dripped more blood. He barely felt it.

“Ok. I guess just use your finger to sign it? Unless you have a quill in that backpack there.”

Link slowly opened his eyes, still not looking at his hand. “Am I supposed to write with my left hand?”

Rhett chuckled. “You’re the one who gave me the right one! Don’t worry, it’ll still count if you sign with your left.”

Link sighed. Still not looking directly at the wound on his palm, he dipped his left index finger into the small pool of blood and brought it to the paper, letters large and clumsy with his non-dominant hand. He had to dip his finger multiple times, swirl it around in the crimson liquid, breathing through his mouth so not to let the smell affect him. Rhett was watching Link so carefully, oddly fixated by the blood seeping from the wound, he almost forgot he was supposed to be doing the same. He moved quickly, barely forming letters in his haste, his full name looking more like bloody mountains and valleys than words.

When he was done, he smiled widely, and looked up at Link just in time to see his friend turn ashen. Link looked about a second from unconsciousness, and without a thought Rhett reached out his hand, the one still dripping blood, and grabbed Link’s, threading their fingers together, trying to steady him. He brought his right hand to Link’s cheek, trying to use his physical presence to keep his friend from fainting. Link looked up at him, right in his eyes, throat moving as he swallowed, and slowly, gradually, his breathing started to steady, color started to return. They remained that way for a few minutes, Rhett smiling, rubbing his thumb over Link’s full cheek, murmuring words of assurance as his friend stayed above water.

Once Link calmed, he licked his lips and looked down at their hands grasped tightly together. Rhett felt their twin wounds press against each other, felt the warmth and wetness on their palms, blood mingling as it dripped onto the rock underneath them. Rhett smiled even wider, reassuringly, trying to assuage his friend’s delicate sensibilities. “There, man, you did it. That wasn’t so bad. And look, now we’re really brothers. Blood brothers. You can’t get rid of me now.” Link smiled weakly, swallowing hard, still unable to speak. He nodded, eyes locked with Rhett’s, and the world seemed to swell around them. The birdsong and the smells of the pasture melted away, the whole world reduced down to their locked eyes, their joined hands, the promises sealed in blood on the rock next to them. Rhett was overjoyed, his heart so full; he was so glad to have this real and solid assurance that he and Link were bonded, connected, their future as bright before them as the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been working on this fic for over a year now; it's my most ambitious project to date and it's not completed yet, although I do have a decent amount written. For now it will update once a week, on Fridays, but I do anticipate in the future I'll need to reduce that to once every two weeks. I'll let you all know if and when that time comes.
> 
> Anyway I hope you all enjoy reading and I would love any and all feedback you have to give! Come stalk me on [tumblr](the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that in this chapter there is a discussion that includes homophobic language rooted in religious ideology.
> 
> I should have mentioned this in the notes of the first chapter, but this fic is heavily inspired by Troye Sivan's album Blue Neighbourhood, and many of the themes and plot elements come from that album. Some chapters will even include "listening assignments" for certain tracks, if you're the type who likes a multimedia fan work experience. Some other music that influenced either the themes or the atmosphere of this fic are Babel by Mumford and Sons and Astral Weeks by Van Morrison.

_October 1995_

In the time since signing an oath in blood, Rhett had grown another two inches. He sometimes wondered if he would ever stop growing, if one day he would tower over houses and church steeples and trees, a lone giant who would have to retreat into the woods so scientists wouldn’t come to dissect his enormous body. He figured that probably wouldn’t happen, probably, but he still sincerely hoped that he would top out before he reached 7’, as even now he was much too tall for anything reasonable, other than sinking three-point shots. Link had grown as well, settling at a respectable 6’, though still dwarfed by the presence of his best friend and the fact that he had added height but no girth, all pointy joints and lean muscle. His thighs didn’t even touch at the widest point, Rhett had noticed during the hours watching Link run back and forth across a soccer field. Rhett was only thin because he couldn’t eat enough to keep up with the endless calories burned by his body merely walking around, let alone playing basketball relentlessly, which he was all too soon about to be doing. He was hungry all the time, eating almost constantly; yet he couldn’t keep weight on even as his muscles widened and bulged, surely thriving on fumes and willpower alone.

His stomach growled as he sat at his family’s kitchen table, frowning at the array of papers splayed out across the surface. He shot a sideways glance at his best friend, who was still organizing college applications in some order that Rhett wasn’t yet privy to. He was sullen because he was hungry, but embarrassed to eat again after the two turkey sandwiches he’d wolfed down less than an two hours ago. Link almost never ate, barely remembered to eat at meal times, and always smirked when Rhett pawed through his fridge and cabinets, searching for calories to quiet his stomach. So he just sat, hungry and sulking. He spoke, partially to focus on anything else.

“Ok, so, is this it? The final list?” 

Link didn’t look up as he spoke. “Yup. NC State, UNC Asheville, Wake Forest, and NC School of Arts.” 

He nodded. Link had spoken to their guidance counselor that morning, had gotten two sets of the necessary paperwork, and driven to Rhett’s directly after soccer practice had ended. He could still see the way Link’s hair stuck to his neck a bit, could still smell the grass and sweat on him. Rhett pursed his lips together, thoughtful. He was anxious in a vague and amorphous sort of way; afraid of not getting into these schools and of getting into schools he wasn’t supposed to be going to and getting into schools without the moniker of College Athlete attached to the experience. Link was just anxious, about all of it, eager to get it all settled, hands shaking slightly as he arranged applications and colorful brochures and essay topics and financial aid forms. Rhett knew that shake, that nervous hand through hair, that forefinger resting on pursed lips. He had an urge to fold his hands over Link’s, to use his body to press some calm into those bones. He scratched his nose instead. 

“And you’re sure we shouldn’t apply to any out-of-state schools?”

Link shook his head, still not looking at him, still moving papers, shifting and shuffling. “Nah, man, I told you; I can’t afford the out-of-state tuition. Plus this way we’ll be closer to our parents.” 

Rhett slid down lower in his chair. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I mean.” 

Link stopped and finally looked up at him, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “We’ll be far enough. Even State’s, like, a whole ‘nother world. It’s not like we’re applying to Campbell.” He went back to the forms, concentrating on whatever patterns his mind was making with the information at hand. Rhett thought that at this point he might just be reorganizing them to keep his hands moving. 

Rhett made no move to help, only sat, slightly overwhelmed at both his friend’s efforts at organization and the idea that they were applying to college at all. Sitting next to Link, watching his slight frame bend over the table, constantly in motion, it was hard to imagine they weren’t still first graders, jumping on the couch cushions and clamoring under this very table, searching for dragons and pirates and imaginary riches. Rhett was feeling a melancholy nostalgia mixed with his anxieties — simultaneously scared and longing to leave the place he’d called home since he was five. The only salve to his nerves was the promise that he and Link had made; that they would be in this together, working towards glory. Whatever glory meant these days. He smiled slightly at the thought of venturing off to some college campus, him and Link, into a new world without having to abandon the foundation of friendship they’d had since they’d known what friendship was. 

“And what, exactly, is wrong with Campbell?” 

Rhett looked up at his father’s voice, hadn’t heard him enter the room. Despite the fact that Rhett towered over him now, his father’s figure standing over him was still intimidating. He tensed without conscious thought, sat up straighter in his chair, turned his body toward him. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, which was an impulse he had rarely experienced before the last few weeks.

“We don’t really want to spend the next four years in Buies Creek, Dad. Gotta leave the nest sometime, right?” Rhett’s tone was a little sharper, a little more insolent than he’d ever dared use before. There had always been a little tension between them, usually benign, spurring Rhett on to be better, stronger, push himself harder than he would without it. The tension of the last few weeks, however, was different. It left Rhett feeling gruff and drained, nearly all the time but especially when he thought the conversation might come up again. The thought of it made Rhett’s tongue loose and reckless, refusing to adhere to the previous eighteen years’ agreements of acceptable behavior. His father was not responding well to the change in attitude. 

His father cocked an eyebrow. “Careful, son. I know the Camels might not be your first choice, but I’m just wondering why you would pass up free tuition and a home-cooked meal every night. Your mother would certainly love it.” Rhett knew his father didn’t actually have any desire for Rhett to attend the university where he taught, that he was merely arguing the point. And though his face was calm, his tone dripped with warning: watch your tone. Rhett sighed, tired, more aggravated than before.

Link, oblivious to the tension and the warning, continued to sort through applications. “Asheville has the better film program, but I think we have a better chance of getting into NC School of Arts. There’s a smaller pool and they take more applicants.” He was talking mostly to himself, only marginally aware that the other men were even in the room. Rhett tensed as his father’s face narrowed, preparing himself for another lecture, another long evening of debating and disagreeing. 

On his eighteenth birthday, he had told his father of his plan — their plan — to apply to film schools. Not exclusively, _obviously, Dad,_ but with intent to attend if accepted. That conversation had not gone well. The best that could be said was that Rhett hadn’t gotten smacked, but he’d almost have preferred that to the insistent demeanor his father had maintained, at first outright refusing to even allow Rhett to entertain the idea. After hours (days? weeks?) of arguing and haranguing and negotiating, he had come to a grudging acceptance that his son wouldn’t be swayed from the plan, and made it plain that he was to explore all other academic options available — especially those that rode on the back of an athletic scholarship. So Rhett grudgingly agreed to continue talking with the schools that were actively recruiting him and follow through if he had any offers. Rhett hadn’t worked himself up to that other conversation yet, although he suspected his disinterest in pursuing basketball was becoming more and more apparent the closer the upcoming season loomed. 

“And what schools are you applying to, Linkster?” The change in tone was nearly imperceptible; Rhett, however, knew his father and the ways he could draw information from people before they suspected they were being interrogated. 

Link blinked twice and looked up at Rhett’s father, as if he just noticed him standing above them. “Uh ... NC State, UNC Asheville, Wake Forest, NC School of Arts.” He paused, slightly nonplussed. “Same as Rhett.” Link looked over at Rhett, unsure. Link knew him and his father had talked about this, knew they had argued about it, didn’t quite know how to answer the question.

His father nodded slowly. “Nowhere on your own? To pursue some of your own interests?” He spoke slowly, a calculated air of curiosity. 

Link smirked, glancing sideways at Rhett. “Nah. Who else’s gonna put up with this guy snoring? He’d drive anyone else nuts.” Eyes mischievous, Link quickly shot out his arm to give Rhett a sharp jab in the ribs. Rhett, who after nearly twelve years of friendship possessed a keen ability to anticipate Link’s movements, grabbed Link’s wrist as he tried to pull his arm away, jutting out his own arm to scrabble his fingers along Link’s ribcage. Link giggled, high and light, wriggling away from his grasp, sending out a harmless kick at Rhett’s ankle. Rhett chuckled, still gripping Link’s wrist. 

His father’s frown deepened. “What if Rhett gets a scholarship and you decide that school’s not the best place for you?” The implication that Rhett would be getting a scholarship, would be an athlete, hung heavy in his father’s voice. 

Link furrowed his brows. “Well, that won’t matter if Rhett doesn’t play basketball … ” He trailed off the end, seeming to realize what he was admitting as the words were coming out of his mouth. Rhett widened his eyes at Link, disbelieving; dude. Link slid his wrist out of Rhett’s hand and grimaced in apology.

Rhett felt his father’s hand fall to his shoulder, squeezing once. This should have been a comforting gesture, fatherly, reassuring; Rhett knew it was a sign of sincere displeasure.

“I see. Well, Link, you should probably head home. Rhett’s got some things to take care of before supper.” The dismissal in his father’s voice was plain and left no room for argument. His hand squeezed Rhett’s shoulder again. “I’m sure you have your own homework to finish.” 

Link’s eyes flicked to Rhett’s quickly before looking at his father’s again. “Yeah, I mean. Yes, sir. I should be going. I should probably clean the house before my mom gets home … ” He began gathering up all the papers, abandoning his neat piles and careful coordination in order to quickly obey. 

“I'm sure she'll appreciate that.” Rhett’s father turned to his son, looked down at him pointedly. “After you show Link out, I’d like to speak with you in my office.” Rhett’s stomach settled somewhere in his feet. He was tired, tired of feeling like he was disobeying by simply having his own ambitions, trying to forge his own path. But he nodded, keeping his face clear of the frustration he felt. With that his father left the room, and after a moment Rhett heard the office door click shut. 

Link shoved the applications and forms haphazardly into his backpack. “Sorry, man, I forgot you hadn’t told him yet ... “ He looked right at Rhett’s eyes. “Do you think he’s gonna be really mad?” 

Rhett shrugged. “I don’t know.” He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “I almost don’t care at this point.” 

Link nodded. He swung his backpack over one shoulder and started toward the front door. Rhett stood to walk him out, walked down the hall two steps behind, reached out to open the door and let his friend outside. Link looked up at him sheepishly, halfway out the door. “I’m really sorry, though, I didn’t mean to get him started again.” Link’s concern was written in the tension of his shoulders, the curve of his mouth, the lines of his forehead. 

Rhett hurried to reassure him, dismiss his apprehension; the thought of keeping anger towards Link was inconceivable. “Don’t worry about it. If it wasn’t today it would be tomorrow, or next week, you know? Gotta deal with it sometime.” Rhett clapped his hand on Link’s shoulder, held it there for a few moments before dropping it to his side. “See you tomorrow?” 

Link grinned, relieved. “Yeah, definitely. Sorry again.” He swung his fist softly into Rhett’s shoulder, rubbing his knuckles against the muscle there before turning to walk out the door.

Rhett watched him walk away, jog down the path, get into his car. He breathed in deeply, let it out slowly as Link drove away. He squared his shoulders, drew his resolve in deeply, and headed down the hallway to the door to his father’s office. He knocked just once before opening it and entering. 

His father leaned against the front of his desk, arms folded in front of him. As he entered the room, Rhett’s eyes drifted over the tall bookshelves filled with law tomes, most dusty with disuse. He was immediately struck with the feeling of being a small child, not yet able to reach the top shelves, running his fingers over the leather bindings and letters embossed in silver. He remembered the comfort of sitting in his father’s lap, pretending to write curriculums and grade papers alongside him, and the anxiety of facing stern reprimands for his youthful transgressions. He drew in the particular scent of the room: worn paper, ink and dust, the wood of the desk warmed by sun coming in through the windows. The hard-backed chair that Rhett had faced many inquisitions in sat before his father, a clear portrait of who was in charge, who held the upper hand in this situation. As Rhett sat down his father straightened, standing taller; he seemed to often forget how much his son had grown, how their disparate heights didn’t comply with the power balance his father demanded. 

For a few moments they just looked at each other; Rhett knew better than to ask any questions, try to start the conversation. He tried to imagine how his father would start — a firm command to pursue athletics in earnest? A demand that he forget about the film programs? Or merely a lecture on his disappointment, his disapproval? Rhett didn’t know what he would prefer, at this point, or if he would be able to keep his protestations at bay if his father tried to assert control over this choice, the first real decision of his adulthood. 

He wasn’t expecting the sentence that came out of his father’s mouth. “Why are you only applying to the same universities as Link?” 

Rhett cocked his head at the unexpected start. “Uh, what do you mean?” He paused. “We … we want to go to school together.” 

His father pressed his lips together and settled back against the desk, folding his arms over his chest again. “You’re not interested in pursuing your own path? Your own interests? Why does it have to involve Link?” 

A flush began to rise in Rhett’s chest, the tips of his ears, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He had never told his parents about the oath that he and Link had made. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, necessarily; it just felt intensely personal. It was sacred between him and his friend, something intimate and deeply private. They had never mentioned it to anyone else at all, not friends or girlfriends. They’d never agreed to the secrecy; it just felt odd to bring it up to anyone outside of themselves. The thought of telling his father about it made him squirm. 

“We just … we want to do the same stuff, so why wouldn’t we go to school together? And then we’ll have someone familiar around, and someone to room with … why not?” He wasn’t sure why he was being questioned about this, he thought it would be obvious why he would want to embark on this unfamiliar road with his oldest friend. Rhett suddenly had a mad vision of his father mocking him like some of their classmates, that he would sneer and call Link his boyfriend like Cole did when he felt particularly like pushing Rhett’s buttons.

Suddenly Rhett blushed in earnest, though his brain still lagged behind. 

His father looked down at him, a seriousness in his expression that made Rhett’s stomach tighten, nervous. 

“I don’t think it’s prudent for you to limit yourself this way. Link has always been a good friend to you, and you know your mother and I care about him. Greatly. I personally don’t take lightly the responsibility of being a positive male figure in his life.” Rhett nodded, still unsure about where this conversation was headed. His father continued. “You’ve always had a unique relationship, for boys your age.” His father’s eyes narrowed.  “But you’re not a boy, anymore, Rhett.”

Rhett swallowed, his throat thick. He was sure he was in trouble, had committed some sin that he was unaware of. He felt surging guilt and shame, but still didn’t know the source. Understanding licked at the edges of his mind, but he held it back, praying his father would stop talking, let his concerns go; Rhett didn’t want him to say the words out loud. 

But of course, he went on. “I’m concerned that you could put yourself in a dangerous situation, son. Inadvertently. You two are very close, and if you put yourselves in an environment that’s unfamiliar and emotionally charged — as is to be imagined, starting this new phase of life — you could get in over your head. You could put yourself in temptation’s way.”

Rhett scoffed, desperately fending off his embarrassment. “Dad, come on, it’s not — it’s _Link,_ for God’s sake.” 

“It is exactly for God’s sake that I’m discussing this with you.” His father looked slightly dangerous at this moment, and Rhett kept his protests back behind his teeth. “This is very serious. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m warning you to tread carefully in this situation. There’s a lot of freedom that will come to you very shortly, and I don’t want you to forget the things you know to be true and right. Better men than you have given in to temptation, and I want you to guard yourself. I won’t forbid you to choose the same college as him — I won’t — but if make your choices with Link in mind, you must be careful. You are not a child. You are becoming a man. Don’t make choices that cannot be undone.” 

There was no possibility of looking his father in the eyes. Every inch of Rhett’s skin burned red, flushed with shame — _he hadn’t done anything wrong_ — and he felt at once completely guilty and wholly misunderstood. He and Link were friends; very close friends, practically brothers, his father just didn’t _understand_ — 

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, Rhett thought that maybe he was the one who didn’t understand. 

His stomach hurt in earnest now. 

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” Rhett lifted his eyes, just slightly, to his father. His face had softened, compassion bleeding through his concern. Rhett was more uncomfortable with his tenderness; it was not the way their relationship worked, and Rhett’s hands were clammy now. His heart raced as he nodded fiercely, every part of him wanting to get as far away from this room as possible. 

His father nodded once, curt. “Good. Now go finish your homework. Your mother will call you for supper.” Rhett nodded again, stealing one last glance as his father’s face. He was smiling gently, as if treading carefully now that his warning was delivered. Rhett suppressed the urge to vomit.

He stood up, walked out of the office, closed the door. He walked up the staircase, crossed the landing, went into his bedroom. He didn’t know where his school work was. He didn’t care. 

His father was concerned about his relationship with Link. Enough to warrant a formal discussion. Enough to _warn_ him. About his _feelings_. 

Rhett closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into them, pressing until he saw swirls of colors and stars. What the actual fuck just happened? 

Rhett had been called gay more times than he could count. The insult was so common, thrown this way and that without a thought to the actual meaning. Their friends ribbed the two of them from time to time, teased them, but without malice, without force; the thought of truth behind the word was so absurd and forbidden it was fair game for teenage mockery. The thought that their relationship — their friendship, Rhett corrected — could actually cause his father concern, that he would be tempted or somehow allow himself to — 

To what, exactly? Rhett contemplated the implication of his father’s words. What did he need to careful of? What would he be tempted to do? Start to _want_ Link? Develop feelings for him? Want to be with him? 

Rhett pushed his palms deeper into his eyes and growled. What the fuck was he thinking? He was thinking about Link as if — as if Link were a girl, someone that could sway Rhett’s emotions or desire, as if they needed to be guarded and separated like the girls and boys at a church lock-in. As if something forbidden and sordid could happen if they weren’t careful, weren’t thinking, let themselves be swept away by some ocean tide. The entire concept was unthinkable. It was against the order of things — boys didn’t need to be careful with their emotions, their intimacy. Rhett certainly didn’t.

Rhett sat down on the floor, against his bed, and pulled his knees up to his chest. Why was he reacting this way? He never felt sick and sinful when Cole teased him, when his friends joked that Link would obviously come along on whatever trip or adventure they planned, when his girlfriends asked why his friend was around more often than he wasn’t. Rhett was secure in himself, he wasn’t afraid of what others thought about them; they knew what they had, their promise, their oath that bonded them, that assured them a future together — 

He didn’t feel very secure in this moment. 

Rhett heard a knock on his door. His mother’s voice drifted through. “Supper’s ready, baby. Wash your hands before you come to the table, Lord knows where they’ve been.” The teasing in his mother’s voice was so familiar and comforting that Rhett wanted to cry.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, mama. I’m coming.” His stomach churned and quaked; food had never seemed less appealing.

Through supper, he picked at his food, moved it around his plate until finally asking to be excused. His mother asked if he was feeling well. His father ignored his unease. He finished his school work, Calculus and French and English, with half of his mind, desperate to keep the thoughts and questions his father had drawn to the surface deep underneath. That night, though, as he laid in bed and stared at the moon through his bedroom window, he opened himself up slowly, a tightly closed door creaking open, and in the safety of his bed and the darkness, he allowed himself to entertain the notion — what if his father was right? What if Rhett, in his soul, had been blind and unaware all this time? 

He slept without resting, heart hammering in his chest even in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy reading and I would love any and all feedback you have to give! Come stalk me on [tumblr!](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for homophobic thoughts rooted in religious ideology.

When Rhett woke the next morning, he couldn’t immediately remember why his hands were clammy, why his heart was racing, why his stomach was twisted in knots. As he adjusted to wakefulness, the uncertain emotions from the day before flooded him; he groaned and pulled his covers up over his head, blocking out the light of day, trying to keep the illumination from his father’s warning from touching him. He felt as if he had run miles in his sleep, more exhausted than when he laid his head down the night before.

He thought of Link waiting for him in the school parking lot, sitting on the folded-down door of his truck bed. His heart clenched tightly in his chest.

He sighed deeply. He got out of bed anyway and dragged himself into the bathroom; he hoped the warm water and the task of washing would clear the fog from his head.

He looked at himself in the mirror as he ran the water in the shower, waiting for it to warm up. He didn’t look any different than he did yesterday, didn’t look as though one of the most solid foundations in his life had suffered a sizable crack. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub the turmoil he felt off his skin and bones.

He stepped into the shower and stood under the faucet, allowing the rush of water to draw away some of the tension that gripped at him. He turned around to let the cascade of wet heat wash over his shoulders and his back, running his hands over his scalp and absent-mindlessly noting that his buzz cut could use a trim. He still couldn’t wrap his mind completely around why yesterday’s conversation was affecting him this way. His father was clearly overreacting, looking too closely; he just didn’t understand. It was just Link, for goodness’ sake — his best friend, practically his brother; their relationship was normal.

Rhett wasn’t even exactly sure what he was so afraid of, what feelings he suspected would come to him when he saw his best friend. The thought of a having some sort of crush was ridiculous. Rhett knew crushes, he knew want — he had always wanted girls, with varying degrees of intensity, and he had never felt anything like that when it came to Link. With Link there was no panic, no urgency in his chest; no need for constant affirmation, no waning of focus when his affection was reciprocated — their friendship was nothing like that. With Link, it was easy. Rhett didn’t need to worry about saying the right thing, or being a particularly good version of himself. He never worried, never second-guessed himself; he liked that Link knew him, inside and out, and never wanted him to be smarter or cooler or different. But that was friendship; it didn’t mean Rhett had any particular kind of _feelings_ for Link.

Not to mention those feelings would be, unquestionably, wrong. _For God’s sake,_ his father had said. And Rhett knew precisely what he meant, why his father’s demeanor turned grave at the implication. He’d gone to church his whole life, sat through sermons and youth group lessons about temptation, about purity and chastity, about those types of sexual sin. It was bad enough to lust after a girl that way, to imagine her in unholy situations; it was quite another thing to think about a boy, about men, in that same way. It was unthinkable, unforgivable. Rhett knew it as sure as he knew his prayers, as sure as he knew that God’s love was deep and wide and his wrath was swift and terrible.

Rhett moved his hands over his body, pushing away soap suds, his mind flitting from one anxiety to another, not even sure which concern to dwell on. He rolled his neck, attempting to release the tension that bound his shoulders. He needed to relax; Link was his friend, and it made no sense to think of his friend that way.

Rhett knew his other friendships weren’t the same, but he had never worried about it. Other friendships had waxed and waned during the years, sometimes his attention focused on spending time with Mike or Ben or Chris, sometimes with Link and sometimes without him, but his relationship with Link wasn’t like that. Even when they spent less time together, didn’t speak every day, absorbed themselves in other interests or friendships or girlfriends, there was never doubt, never insecurity about Link. Link was steadfast, he was solid; there was nothing at all more sure than his relationship with Link. Rhett never felt like it was strange or odd; it was the way it was, as natural as the change in seasons. Autumn breezes chilled to winter gales, and he and Link were in this together.

He turned the faucet off, letting the water drip from his short hair, his chin, his fingertips. He shook his head, wishing he could clear his thoughts as easily as he could shake the water from his scalp. He told himself to stop being weird, stop being gross, stop thinking about Link that way.

He assessed himself in the mirror as he carefully shaved. He hoped he would look better as the day pressed on, because at the moment he looked as if he’d slept in a dumpster. He got dressed and thundered down the stairs into the kitchen.

His mother was was the stove, stirring a pot of oatmeal, apples already sliced on a plate at the table. He sat down and absent-mindedly stuffed the fruit into his mouth, habit forcing a mumbled prayer from his lips — _thank you oh God for the bounty you provide_ — and his insides twisted, just a bit. He smiled, tight-lipped, at his mother as she placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.

“Feeling better this morning?” She questioned, concern pulling her brow tight. She stroked her hand along his forehead, over his hairline, the old habit of feeling for warmth there not yet lost. Rhett exhaled slowly. There was no sense worrying her because he was hung up on something his father pulled out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just tired, I guess.” He brought the spoon to his lips, eating hurriedly; he considered asking her to make eggs as well, but he had dawdled a bit and now needed to hurry. He also considered taking his time, taking the fifteen extra minutes he technically had, but quickly squashed the thought.

His mother smiled at him, her hand rubbing over the short-cropped hair on his head, teasing. “And basketball hasn’t even started yet. We’ll have to drag you out the house once you get going if you’re already so tired.” She poked his forehead with her index finger. “When’s practice start?”

Rhett sighed. “Next Wednesday.” In less than a week, the bulk of his time would be consumed by practice, drills, games, hours spent running up and down the court, shooting basket after basket after basket. Not to mention the recruiters — the athletic departments at Wake Forest and UNC Asheville were particularly interested in him, already sending recruiters to two separate games last year. He had swelled with pride then when he shook their hands then, feeling all-together grown up as he bragged about his record, his skills, his enthusiasm for college athletics. That had been barely eight months ago, and now he struggled to dredge up even a fraction of that pride and excitement. It just didn’t seem important anymore.

His mother nodded slowly. “Well, it’s got to be exciting. Your last year playing, you’ll have to make the most of it.” Rhett looked at her carefully, but she didn’t elaborate; she turned away from the table and began putting dishes into the sink. With her back turned, it almost seemed as if Rhett misheard her, that she hadn’t implied she knew he had no desire to be play in college. He considered her for a moment before standing up from the table.

“Yeah. I’ll try. I gotta go, Mama.” He walked over to her, bent down, and kissed her cheek. No matter the tension with his father, it was a relief to know his mother was on his side. She never contradicted her husband, certainly not in front of her children, but Rhett suspected that every time his father yielded on an issue that seemed impossible, or gave Rhett the benefit of the doubt, or held his tongue when his son made questionable choices, that his mother was the thought behind each of those actions. “Love you.”

She turned to him, her face so soft and warm that Rhett’s heart unclenched for the first time since he’d sat in his father’s office. “I love you, baby. More than anything.”

Rhett smirked. “More than Cole?”

His mother winked, smiling. “Don’t tell.” She turned back to the dishes.

 

___________________________________________

 

Rhett’s nerves started fraying at the edges as he got closer to school, and by the time he pulled into the parking lot he regretted the speed at which he ate his breakfast. He saw Link immediately, sitting in the bed of his truck, just as Rhett had imagined, just as he was every morning. Rhett’s hands slipped a little on the steering wheel as he pulled into the spot next to him, put the car into park, took the key out of the ignition.

They had started meeting up before school early in September. They had lamented finding out, over the summer, that they would not be sharing any classes together in their senior year, not even the same lunch period. School started, along with Link’s soccer season, and after two weeks of hardly seeing each other at all, Link asked if Rhett wanted to come a little early, hang out a few minutes before school, catch up on things. And so Rhett did, and came early again the next day, and the day after that, until it became routine to rush through his morning at home, sacrifice sleep or a full breakfast, and meet Link in the parking lot. It was mostly nothing, this bit of gossip or that interesting news, just keeping up with things that might slip by if they didn’t connect every day. Rhett relished it; he felt better, his head clearer, when he started his day this way. It hadn’t seemed odd at the time to ensure they had these quiet moments together each day.

It seemed a little odd now. Link’s face spread into a wide smile as Rhett opened the car door and stretched his long legs out of the car. The door of the truck bed was down, and Link sat atop it, legs swinging slightly as they hung over the edge. Rhett approached the truck, forcing a small grin, and stood in front of him, hesitant. Link shifted over slightly, not making room so much as extending the invitation for Rhett to hop up next to him. He took a deep breath and did, aware of exactly how much room his body took up next to Link on the narrow truck bed.

“So what’d your dad say yesterday? Sorry again for bringing all that up.”

Rhett looked up. “Hmm?” He hadn’t quite heard the question; as he sat down, Link had moved closer to him, pressing their legs together from hip to knee. His leg was very warm. “Oh, my dad?”

Link’s smile retreated, concern turning the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, after I left? Was he real mad? Did he say you have to try to play?” His hands twisted in his lap, restless. Rhett knew, though Link had never told him, that the thought of Rhett playing basketball, of being recruited and accepted somewhere that Link wouldn’t be able to follow, made him scared and anxious. Link didn’t have to say it; Rhett felt it, too.

To be honest, it was probably one of the biggest reasons his ambitions for athletics had slowly drained away.

Rhett tried to ignore the warmth of Link’s thigh along his own, though he wondered if this is how they always sat together in this truck, why Link had so casually shifted until they were touching, no thought of personal space.

“No, um. He wasn’t too mad.” Broaching the topic of last night’s conversation was, obviously, not an option. Rhett couldn’t even imagine bringing the words to his tongue, let alone letting Link in on the current tumult in his mind. “Uh, he’s just worried I won’t get a scholarship otherwise.” The lie stumbled from his tongue, ungainly and weak. “You know, money and stuff. I’m told him I’m still talking to recruiters, so we’ll just … see what happens.” It was a conversation they could have had, the conversation Rhett had been expecting when his father’s hand had squeezed his shoulder barely twelve hours ago. It was easy to imagine how he would feel now, frustrated with his father instead of himself, Link’s presence a comfort instead of the problem at hand. He shifted himself over, inched away just enough to put a sliver of space between their bodies. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Link didn’t seem to notice. He nodded seriously, turning his head away and looking out at the trees in the distance. They always parked along the back edge of the lot, far from the school building, facing the football field and a copse of trees beyond. They weren’t hidden, but their posture and position certainly didn’t invite others to join them.

“That doesn’t sound too bad. At least he’s not still trying to make the decision for you.” Link’s shoulders tightened a bit, hunching forward, as if Rhett would scold him for the slight criticism in his words. Rhett made an affirmative noise, no intention of rebuking his friend. Rhett knew his father, knew he could be overbearing, controlling, sometimes unreasonable; his opinions were forcing Link’s future as well as Rhett’s, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his friend was more resentful than he let on.

“Yeah. Won’t be the last time it comes up, though.” This much Rhett knew to be true. Though basketball and college hadn’t actually come up yesterday, it was inevitable that they would clash about the topic. The crux of it was that Rhett wanted one thing and his father wanted another, and Rhett refused to make his father’s desires more important than his own. It went against every learned behavior in his gut, every part of him twisted at the thought of open disobedience, but it was too important. It wasn’t just his future that was on the line.

Link nodded again, pressing his lips together. Rhett turned his head to look at Link’s profile, and Link moved his head at the same moment; they ended up face to face and Rhett, startled, pulled back slightly — they were so close that their noses almost brushed. Rhett’s heart pounded; there was no way they always sat this close. He would have noticed it before.

Link just smiled; nothing amiss, nothing out of the ordinary. He clapped a hand to Rhett’s shoulder, rubbed the spot a little before sliding his hand down the length of Rhett’s back. He settled his hand on the truck bed directly behind Rhett and leaned back onto his hands. Rhett disregarded the line of heat that had followed Link’s hand down his back and now spread through him. He focused, instead, on what Link was saying.

“It’ll be all right, man. We’ll figure something out. Your dad’s a factor, but, you know. As long as we’re doing something together it’ll be great.” His eyes were genuine, and at this short distance Rhett saw the unwavering belief he held there. Link trusted him, trusted that their plans would work out. Trusted their promise.

This sobered Rhett. He told himself to get a grip, pull himself together. Link didn’t need him to start acting weird; Link needed him to hold up his end of the bargain, do his half of the work. That was more important than whatever temporary hang-up Rhett was dealing with.

He smiled a genuine smile for the first time that morning, leaned forward and knocked Link’s knee with his fist. “You got that right, man. We’ll be fine. Just a few more months and we’ll be on our way.”

Link’s eyes crinkled in the corners as his smile spread through his whole face. He bumped his shoulder against Rhett’s before he jumped down from the truck. “You’re coming to my game on Thursday, right?”

Rhett nodded vigorously. “Yeah, man! I wouldn’t miss the pinnacle of your high school sports career.”

Link rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, the grand finale of a truly mediocre run. Talk about ending with a whimper.” The boy’s soccer team would be finishing out the regular season without any chance at the play-offs, to no one’s great surprise. Rhett just hoped Link would get to play a decent chunk of the game so that he could cheer his friend on, whip the crowd into a frenzy as Link blushed his way up and down the field. Link hitched his backpack further up his shoulder.

“Well, you know I wouldn’t miss it,” Rhett assured him. Link smiled, almost shy, and motioned for them to get going; they heard the first bell ring in the distance. Rhett jumped down from the truck and followed his friend towards the school building. Rhett’s father was wrong; he never had to worry with Link, had no reason to be cautious. He was secure enough to admit he loved his friend, like you would love a brother; more than he loved his actual brother, honestly. But that didn’t mean there was anything insidious lingering underneath his affection; this was just the way it was.

Rhett told himself all of this as he entered the school building, laughing as Link shoved him jovially before turning to walk in the opposite direction. He pretended he believed it, pretended it was just hunger making his stomach lurch, just the coming chill of autumn that creeped into his bones as he watched his friend walk away, eventually losing him in the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhett's got a lot of thoughts and feelings but isn't very self-aware, you know? Just a dumb introspective teenage boy. God I love him. 
> 
> Sorry for the slight delay in posting, thanks for bearing with me. I love all thoughts and feelings and speculation you have for me, leave some in the comments! Or come yell at me on [tumblr](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com) for having an entire chapter of internal monologue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned lately that [MythicallySnappy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/pseuds/MythicallySnappy) and [pringlesaremydivision](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision) are the most wonderful humans on this here planet? Because they are, and I am so indebted to them for their insight and wisdom and friendship. Just needed to say that again.

The following week passed in stops and starts. There were moments where Rhett felt normal, easy, at home and at school. He was grateful, for once, that he and Link shared no classes; it was easier to get a hold on himself, to keep himself from dwelling on the strange new beast in his chest when he didn’t see Link, didn’t have to look him in the eyes or feel his body near. He could laugh with friends, help his mother with dinner, attend to his schoolwork without a blush creeping up his neck, without having to wipe his hands on his thighs to dry them. He could look his father in the eye without feeling shame clutch at him. 

Other moments sent him reeling, strange and unnerving feelings sending him into a spiral of introspection and questioning. The look his father had given him as they sat his office would come to mind and he would have to swallow past the lump in his throat. He and Link would unexpectedly catch each other’s eye in the hallway and Rhett’s stomach would turn over as Link flashed a smile his way. He mother would kiss him on the forehead and he would imagine all the ways he was failing her, failing to be the virtuous man she raised him to be. 

The minutes they spent together in the mornings were the hardest. Link sat so close to him, every time, almost always making sure they touched at one point — arm or leg brushing, a hand on knee or shoulder. Link touched him constantly, _constantly._ This couldn’t be normal, couldn’t be how they typically interacted with each other; yet he suspected that it was. Link was a touchy guy, peppering his conversations with hands reaching out to anyone within arm’s reach, but no one so much as Rhett. Rhett tried to respond as though nothing had changed, as if his feelings were as they’d always been, but he couldn’t remember how. He shied away from the contact, gently, casually, but Link didn’t pay any mind, kept placing his hands on Rhett’s shoulder, brushing their knees together, tickling him across the ribs. 

Rhett tried to push away his new unease with the physical contact. He didn’t want Link to suspect anything, to think Rhett was angry with him or somehow uncomfortable in his presence. It wasn’t Link’s problem that his heart beat wildly every time their hips pressed together or Link’s hand fell to the small of his back. Link wasn’t the one staring at the way Rhett’s mouth moved when he spoke. 

The one moment Rhett allowed himself, the one time he gave himself permission to relax his control, was as he sat in the stands for Link’s final soccer game. There wasn’t much sitting on his part, not when Link was on the field. Link, uncharacteristically, played most of the second half of the game, and Rhett was on his feet the entire time. He yelled directives, shouted at Link which direction to go, how to move; this way — _no, that way, block that guy!_ — and led the crowd in loud chanting of Link’s name. Link pointedly ignored him, blushing and shaking his head when the stands roared his name with particular veracity. Rhett’s eyes followed his friend up and down the field, his gaze roving over Link’s arms and legs and backside, the way his lean muscles moved as he ran, blocking the opposing players, dribbling the ball down the field before rearing back his leg to kick it. Rhett told himself this was normal, it was normal to admire the athleticism of his friend, to cheer at his every move, to let eyes wander along his body unashamedly. 

With a start, Rhett realized that it, for him, this was normal. He always did this. He barely followed the action of the game, kept his eyes only on Link, even when he sat on the sidelines. Roared his name wildly, zealous in his cheering. He tensed, but didn’t push the thought away; he released a long breath and gave into it, just for a second. He didn’t ignore the fluttering of his heart, the slick of sweat on his palms, the flush that spread across his cheeks. He gave himself the right, for this short time, to reserve judgement on himself. To smile broadly, clap his hands, whoop and holler; to relish in the groan of his heart when Link winked at him after an easy assist. 

But the moment passed; he said his prayers that night with guilt threatening to choke him. 

Blessedly, they didn’t see each other over the weekend; Link spent Saturday and Sunday visiting his dad up the road near Boone. He didn’t go often anymore, once every couple of months to spend some time with his half-brothers, though Rhett knew Link looked at them more like cousins or family friends than his own siblings. Rhett was desperately relieved at his absence; he spent the weekend running errands with his mother, watching a movie with his father, half-heartedly plugging away at the essays he needed to write for his college applications. He turned down an invitation to go out with friends on Saturday night, opting to enjoy his last days without the specter of basketball looming over him by himself, with his family.

He sat in church on Sunday morning, in between his parents, head hung low, lips moving in rote memorization of the liturgy. His pulse rushed in his ears as the pastor preached a sermon that couldn’t keep his attention, too occupied with trying to keep his mind away from the way Link had looked on the soccer field, windswept and lovely, smiling at Rhett in the stands. He clasped his hands together so hard it hurt, prayed that God would take these feelings from him, to set his heart and mind right again.

He stood to the side of the fellowship hall after the end of the service, nibbling on a cookie, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the other congregants, evading the polite small talk he’d be expected to make. He kissed Link’s mother on the cheek when she came up to him, couldn’t look her in the eyes, shame eating at him; _you wouldn’t smile at me if you knew the way I’ve looked at your son._ He shook the associate pastor, Adam’s, hand and smiled without teeth as he left the building.

The result of the tumultuous week was that by Tuesday, Rhett was incredibly on edge. His anxieties had kept him from sleeping well, and the knowledge that the next day began the basketball season was wearing his nerves down even further, though its approach wasn’t nearly as distressing to Rhett as it had been in the weeks previous. That morning he lay in bed and seriously considered sleeping in, blowing off his time with Link, avoiding him all together. The thought was so deeply tempting that the only thing that kept Rhett from giving in to the impulse was the knowledge that Link would be waiting for him, and he couldn’t actually bring himself to disappoint his friend. Link would wait, and wring his hands, and imagine terrible scenarios keeping Rhett from meeting him as usual; the thought made Rhett feel much worse than his own distress. Though he had tried to maintain a calm disposition, keep his unease deep within him, he knew his behavior had been off, distant. If he kept it up much longer Link would notice, and assume it was he that had done something wrong, that he had angered or upset Rhett in some way, despite having no memory of any transgressions. Rhett sighed and pulled himself out of bed. 

He washed and dressed, ate two bowls of cereal before his mother swatted him away from the table, fiddled with the radio as he drove towards Harnett Central. He turned his car into the drive, eyes immediately drawn to the head of dark hair that stood out at the edge of the lot. He told himself to breathe. 

He nearly forgot how at the sight of the smile Link gave him as he pulled up. He wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans as he stepped out of his car, closed the door, approached Link where he sat, smiling as wide as Rhett had ever seen, as wide as he always did at Rhett’s approach. He smiled his whole face, eyes softening in the corners at the sight of his friend. It certainly didn’t make Rhett’s conflict any easier to bear. 

Rhett hoisted himself up onto the truck, shoulders tightening as he felt Link’s thigh align with his, his right foot kick lightly at Rhett’s left. He steadied his breathing. He looked straight ahead.

They didn’t speak at first, didn’t look at each other, merely sat in silence as the sun peeked out occasionally from behind the cloud cover. Rhett turned his head just enough to catch the way Link’s hair flashed in the early morning sunlight, the nearly black of his hair revealing facets of gold and bronze. He swallowed hard. 

Link turned and caught Rhett’s eye. “Something on your mind?”

Rhett started slightly, caught off guard. “What? What do you mean?”

Link smirked. “You normally can’t shut up in the mornings. You seem like you’re chewing on something.”

Rhett blanched slightly, the breath leaving his body. “Nah, man. I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Link raised his eyebrows, pressed his lips together, and looked out over the football field in front of them. He was quiet for a while, as if on the edge of speech. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, he kept his face straight ahead, hands wringing in his lap. “It won’t be so bad, you know.” 

Rhett’s heart stopped, then started again at double time. “… What?” 

Link shrugged, just a hitch of his shoulders, and this time turned to look Rhett right in his eyes. “I know you’ve been tense this week, but I think you’ll be alright, you know, once it starts. You’ll get used to it.”

Rhett knew his eyes were wide, probably fearful, what did Link mean — what was he saying — 

“I know you’re stressed about the season starting, man, but I don’t think it’ll be that bad. You like playing basketball, and you’ll like being out there once you get back on the court. You’re just, you know. Overthinking it, as usual. Don’t worry so much.” Link’s voice was soft, reassuring, his hand patting twice on Rhett’s knee before coming to rest there. 

It made Rhett absolutely ache. Link had noticed he was tense, was acting strange, and thought it was because of _basketball._ He shook his head at himself; of course Link had noticed. They were best friends, no one knew him like Link did, how could he think he could hide his sullen mood, his anxious heart? Link had merely not let it go, kept up things as normal, allowing Rhett space to pretend as well. Rhett closed his eyes for just a second, his heart feeling like it would swell right out of his chest; he didn’t deserve Link, didn’t deserve his friendship or his fealty. Link loved him, and not in a sick or depraved way — he just cared for Rhett, looked out for him, instinctively knew what he needed. Guilt washed over Rhett as he opened his eyes again. 

He brought his eyes up again, and as he looked at Link’s empathic expression, he realized with panic that his throat was tight, the backs of his eyes burned, he was blinking more than normal. He coughed, badly covering a hitch in his breath. He desperately tried to pull himself together.

He coughed again, clearing his throat. “Yeah … I know.” He started, blundering a little. “Thanks, man. I’m just … like you said. Overthinking.” He patted Link’s shoulder, pulled his hand back right away, ignoring the heat of Link’s hand still on his left knee. “I’ll be alright.” He repeated, smiling genuinely at the concern of his friend.

Link smiled wide again, pleasure at his ability to comfort his friend shining on his face. “Course you will be, man. I knew you were in your head about it all week, and you know. I just don’t want you showing up at practice tomorrow all surly. Won’t make any three-pointers that way.” Link chuckled, punching Rhett gently in the chest. Rhett grabbed his arm, instinctively, but released it immediately, certainly not thinking about how Link’s thin wrist felt, sharp and taught, within his grip.

Link pulled his arm back, laughing. He rubbed his wrist, as if Rhett’s touch had actually hurt him; Rhett knew he was playing it up, keeping up the game. “Anyway. If you think you won’t be too busy moping around, would you want to come and stay over Friday night?”

Rhett paused again, his mind reacting before he could consciously think — _no no of course not are you crazy?_ He stopped himself, though, before his face belied his immediate dismissal. “Uh, why?” He cringed internally, sure that was as good as a blatant rejection. 

Link folded in on himself a little. “Oh, uh. I don’t know. I thought we could hang out?” He paused, looked away again, a light flush creeping up his cheeks. “Plus, you know. My mom’s working an overnight at the hospital, and … you know I get creeped out in the house by myself.” He shrugged, a farce of apathy. “It’s no big deal, if you think you’ll be tired or something. Have other plans.” 

“No.” Rhett blurted. “No, man. I mean. Yeah, that’d be great. Take my mind off things.” Rhett stuttered along, so mad at himself for making Link feel like he was being brushed off. He’d stayed at Link’s a million times; his mother didn't get many overnight shifts anymore, but when she did Rhett was more than happy to keep his friend company, keep Link's thoughts from the groans and shadows of the old house Link and his mom had moved into just a couple of years ago. It would be highly suspect to refuse, would raise far more questions; yet every part of Rhett was saying _no_ , he couldn’t possibly, he could barely keep his heart in his chest when he saw Link for fifteen minutes in the morning, out in public, the touch of their thighs as close as they would get. To be in Link’s home, alone? How could he possibly keep his mind and heart right, keep his thoughts in line?

He stopped. He breathed. Link was smiling again, his shoulders falling back down from where they had risen to his ears. Rhett smiled in return, pushing his reservations and his fears and the tightness in his chest down, down, far away, where they couldn’t touch the corners of Link’s mouth again. He smiled wider, repeating, “That’ll be great. I’ll come by after practice. I bet I can get you to watch a scary movie with me, even.” He pushed his own shoulders down, down, leaned a bit towards his friend, teasing. 

Link snorted. “Yeah, ok. Wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, man.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Come on, we gotta get going, I think I heard the bell.” He slid down from the truck. 

Rhett averted his eyes as Link bent down to grab his backpack from the ground, kept his sight on the trees on the far end of the football field. Link turned, waiting, as Rhett grabbed his backpack and jumped down to the ground, landing right beside his friend. Link bumped his hip against the outside of Rhett’s thigh and started across the parking lot. Rhett took a deep breath, all the way down, and let it out slowly before following after. It was fine; he’d be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the update schedule goes: I really wanted to buckle down and try to bang out a chapter a week, but I just couldn't do it. So unfortunately I'll have to adjust the update schedule until I can give myself a more comfortable buffer again. Chapters 5 and 6 will update weekly, but after that I'll have to move to one update every two weeks. Hopefully this'll be enough to maintain interest and still give me a chance to keep the story moving forward! Thanks for sticking with me and with this story.
> 
> As always, [you can find me on tumblr,](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com) I'm nice and I can talk about this story for days and years, so feel free to chat!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for sexually suggestive language.

Rhett walked slowly, slowly, up the front steps to Link’s house, and stopped in front of the door. He breathed in deeply, adjusted the strap of the duffel bag he’d slung over one shoulder, brought his hand up to knock — and kept it there, unmoving. He couldn’t bring himself to connect his knuckles to the door. He just stood there, arm raised, heart pounding. He had to pull himself together. There was no reason for him to be nervous, to be afraid of spending time with his best friend, except for the stupid tumult in his heart. He sighed and took his hand away from the door to press the heel into his eye. Link didn’t need this from him, didn’t need this at all, and Rhett had the urge to run, far away, possibly to Jupiter, possibly forever.  

To his credit, Link had been right about one thing: once Rhett actually starting playing basketball, his anxieties about it had mostly melted away. He liked it, he loved it; the feel of the ball in his hands, the confidence in his ability to send it exactly where he wanted it to go, the sound his sneakers made on the polished wood of the court, the ease at which he sunk back into teamwork and camaraderie and shared ambition. The best part about jumping back into it was, undoubtedly, that it was a distraction from the unsettling feelings Rhett had been battling. He had slept soundly the past few nights, too worn out from the hours of hard exercise to dwell too deeply on the hot rush he felt in his belly every time Link smiled in his direction. The vague concerns about his father and his future were still there, simmering below the surface, but he tried to focus on his enjoyment of the sport, of working hard, of excelling at something. Rhett was good, he was good, and after weeks of feeling like so many things were out of control, it felt good to take hold of the ball, dribble it twice, bring it up over his head, let go and watch it slip through the basket. He could do that, at least, he could control his body and the ball, and it felt good. 

But in the back of his mind, in quiet moments when the distractions faded away, his confusing lust needled at him. He avoided thinking too often of tonight, being in Link’s house, in his room, alone, with Link’s focused attention and energy. That morning, after Link had casually thrown out, “See you after practice, man!” as he walked away, a tiny knot had formed in Rhett’s stomach. It grew gradually through the day until it sunk large and heavy in him. All the way to Link’s house he had driven too fast and braked too suddenly; he was simultaneously eager and anxious to arrive. He hardly allowed himself to desire Link’s presence, to spend this time with him. When Link had remarked this morning that he was looking forward to spending time together, the apples of Rhett’s cheeks swelled on their own accord; he fleetingly tried to reign himself in, pull in his ballooning pleasure from the clouds. He eventually gave up and just smiled, wide, as bright as Link was smiling back.

Yet now, faced with the reality of the evening, Rhett was stalling. He sighed, and brought his fist up again to knock; before he could connect with the door, it flung wide to reveal Link, smirking at him. He jumped, startled, and pulled his hand away just in time to avoid hitting his friend in the face. Link didn’t move, just smiled at him from the doorway. “I saw your car pull up, man, what are you doing out here?” He chuckled a little, eyebrows raised. 

Rhett gaped for a moment. “You … shaved,” he said, lamely. 

Link’s smile turned shy, and he brought a hand up to rub at his now clean-shaven chin. “Oh, yeah. I mean. Just thought I could use a change.” His cheeks turned slightly pink, but whether he was shy about losing the neat ring of dark hair or its presence in the first place, Rhett wasn’t sure. 

Rhett thought back to when Link had grown it out earlier this year. One Saturday night they had rented _Clerks,_ and less than two weeks later Link had a carefully sculpted beard that exactly resembled Dante’s. Rhett hadn’t thought much of it at the time, hadn’t really noticed; he’d almost forgotten what Link looked like without it. 

Now, confronted with Link, freshly shaved, his strong jawline no longer obscured, Rhett’s brain was unable to process much else. He momentarily forgot where he was, what his purpose on Link’s front stoop was, everything except for the hard line of Link’s chin, the full lips that were moving slowly up on one side, clearly amused at Rhett’s reaction to his change in appearance. Rhett blinked rapidly a few times, and cleared his throat. “Look at that baby face, man!” He forced a chuckle out; he knew it sounded odd, his words too harsh, and Link’s face fell a little, uncertain if he was being teased in good humor or not. 

Rhett cleared his throat again, backtracking; obviously humor wasn’t going to work for him in this moment. “No, man,” he said, seriously, breathing ease into his words where he didn’t feel it, “It looks good. Almost forgot what your face looks like!” He relaxed when he saw Link smile again, hoping the beating of his heart wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his ears.

Link rubbed his chin again, smiling wider. “Well, good thing I shaved, then. I wouldn’t want to deny you the pleasure.” He winked, sticking his tongue out in between his lips, just a bit. Rhett’s eyes widened, just for a second, before clearing his throat a third time and smiling, a hopefully more casually than he felt. Link reached out, suddenly, and grabbed the duffel bag from Rhett’s shoulder. 

“Come on, why we still standing out here?” Link grabbed Rhett’s wrist and tugged him over the threshold unceremoniously. Rhett took a deep breath as he walked into the house, ducking instinctively as he went through the doorway, telling himself to act normal, stop being weird, stop thinking about Link’s smooth jaw and the urge he had to run his fingertips across it.

“My mom left money for a pizza; we could order in a little while, if you want. I think there’s a Domino’s menu in here.” Link released Rhett’s wrist and headed toward the kitchen, dropping the bag near the foot of the stairs. He turned and smiled, the stretch of his mouth all the more visible without the beard surrounding it, and Rhett nodded as his limbs lost some of their certainty. 

“You hungry?” Link questioned as they entered the small kitchen. Rhett shrugged, tongue still feeling numb and too large in his mouth. He hadn’t eaten anything after practice in his haste to leave the house, but it was still a couple of hours before dinner time. Link smiled, shaking his head a little, walked over the cabinets and pulled out crackers and peanut butter. “Come on, I bet you haven’t eaten in what, an hour? You black hole.” Link’s voice was light, teasing, more amusement than scorn in his tone. 

Rhett looked at the floor and smiled, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. He wasn’t embarrassed so much as pleased at Link’s care, the warmth of being known spreading through him. Link was smart, obviously, but could be inattentive at the best of times. And yet he always seemed attuned to Rhett’s moods and needs in a way he picked up on little else, and it warmed Rhett, all the way through.

They stood and ate right at the counter, Link eventually just eating the peanut butter straight out of the jar, as Rhett made the crackers into sandwiches and ate them two at a time. Rhett began to relax, slightly, in the silence that fell around them as they steadily made their way through their snacks. After a few minutes, he turned his head to see Link looking at him.

Link smiled when their eyes met. “Did you bring your guitar?”

Rhett nodded, mouth full, and motioned in the direction of his car parked out front. He swallowed thickly around the peanut butter in his throat. “Want me to go get it?”

“Yeah, maybe we could work on something? Didn’t you tell me a couple days ago you were messing around with a melody? Or we could just jam a little, whatever.” Link shrugged, moving away from the counter. “I came up with some lyrics a few days ago, we could see if it goes anywhere.” 

Rhett nodded again and stood up straight. He hadn’t thought much lately about making music with Link, their ill-defined notions of forming a band, despite his enthusiasm for it in months past. It seemed like there were so many things in his head, so many thoughts and worries swirling through his mind, he could hardly make space for them all sometimes. 

“Yeah, sounds cool. I’ll go get it.” He went out to his car, grabbed the guitar case from the backseat, and jogged back up to the house. When he came back inside he went towards the living room, but found it empty. He called out, “Link?” 

“In my room!” Rhett heard Link’s voice float down the stairs, and he squared his shoulders before taking the steps two at a time. He got to the door of Link’s room and stalled in the doorway. Link was crouched on the floor, the front of him mostly underneath the bed, backside up in the air.

“Uh. Link?” He implored, “What are you doing?” His vision blurred a bit around the edges; he couldn’t force himself look away, the image burning holes in his brain. He blinked repeatedly, transfixed.

Link’s voice was muffled from under the bed. “I had a notebook with stuff I was working on, I think I pushed it under here.” Rhett nodded, still dazed, before he realized Link’s ass couldn’t see him despite how hard he stared at it. Before he could respond, Link yelled, “Got it!” and emerged from under the bed, tumbleweeds of dust in his hair.  Rhett blinked again as Link shook himself out; he remembered he shouldn’t be staring at his best friend’s rear end, even when directly presented to him. He coughed and walked over to sit in the chair at Link’s desk, focusing a bit too intently on unclasping his case and pulling out his slightly battered Yamaha acoustic. He settled it into his hands, warming up to the feel of it; after a year without any formal instruction he still felt like a beginner, though he thought he faked it well. 

Link sat down hard on the bed as he flipped through the spiral-bound notebook. “I mean, there’s nothing finished, just some bits of lyrics and stuff, but it could be a starting point.” He looked up and smiled at Rhett. “Do you remember the tune you were telling me about? We could see if they work together.” 

Rhett nodded, fiddling with the knobs on the neck of the guitar, trying to tune it by ear. He vaguely remembered telling Link about a melody he’d plucked out, and tried to bring his mind back to it, to the time when he actually had brain space to think about things other than the gentle curve of Link’s ear and the soft way he pushed his hair behind it. 

He dragged his attention back to the instrument in his hand, and once it was tuned as well as he could do on his own, he warmed up with a few chords, loosening up his fingers and wrists, trying to breathe deeply, to calm his jangling nerves. The melody came back to him quickly, and he strummed softly as Link flipped pages, looking for lines he thought appropriate for the soulful tune. Rhett closed his eyes and played, listening as Link sang the fragments in his steady voice, the low notes reverberating through the room. As they sat together, the bare bones of a song took form, Link sometimes stopping to scribble out improvised words, sometimes humming or making up words to fill empty spaces, Rhett singing along with him as he repeated refrains. It didn’t take long before they devolved into pure silliness, Rhett strumming brusque minor chords as Link lamented the woe of losing one sock in the dryer. Rhett found that the longer they goofed around, the more the comfortable atmosphere of their friendship returned to him. He got into the music, moving his body along with the beat, laughing out loud as Link attempted to rap along to his strumming, and he felt lighter than he had in weeks. 

He smiled as the tight knot in his chest began to open up. This is what he had missed, had forgotten in his confused haze — his best friend, goofy and fun. This ease, the way they didn’t have to try to fill the space between them, was why Rhett was here, not because he _wanted_ Link, or had some sort of feelings for him. Rhett shook his head a bit at himself as he played, as he listened to Link now questioning out loud whether they could work out a real harmony for a bridge, feeling like he’d wasted so much energy overreacting. Whatever complicated feelings he was having were probably normal; he was just freaking out. He plucked the strings with his fingers, trying to replicate some fingerpicking he’d heard on a Merle Haggard track, and glanced up at Link, nodding along and mouthing silent words to himself, scratching at his newly-exposed chin with the end of his pen. Rhett let out a long breath — he didn’t know how normal it was to look at his best friend this way, to think about him the way he had been, but the fact that he could still sit here, enjoying Link’s easy company, the foundation of their friendship still strong, gave him a wild hope that he could move past this. That everything could go back to normal, that one day his heart wouldn’t race at Link’s brilliant smile, that they could go to college and live together without anything coming between them. He smiled to himself, picking at the strings with his fingers in an airy way, lost in the calm atmosphere, when suddenly he realized Link had fallen silent.

He glanced up to see Link looking at him, head cocked to the side. He was looking intently at Rhett, eyes narrowed, as if scrutinizing something. Rhett dropped his hands from the guitar and straightened up in the chair. “What’re you looking at?” 

Link’s eyes flicked to his. “Your hair. It’s long.” He laughed lightly, “You need a haircut, man. When was the last time you cut it?” 

Rhett scrubbed a shy hand over his scalp, feeling the sharp pricks of hair, definitely longer than he’d been favoring lately. He shrugged, not quite looking at Link’s eyes. “I don’t know, a month, maybe?” Rhett had noticed it getting long, but the truth was he was terrible at cutting it himself, and since Link normally trimmed it for him, he had resolutely ignored its uncomfortable length. “Whenever you last did it.” 

Link raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, well, that’s too long. You want me to buzz it now?” He put his notebook down and stood up, placing both hands on his lower back and pushing his hips forward, cracking his back. Rhett looked away. “I don’t mind, we’re just messing around, anyway.” He looked expectantly at Rhett, who hadn’t moved an inch, still gripping the neck of the guitar tightly in his left hand. 

Rhett paused, turning the situation over in his mind. Link had cut his hair dozens of times in the past year, he’d never thought twice about it, but in this moment the idea of Link’s hands on his head, his neck, standing so close to him; it seemed extremely intimate. He knew his silence was stretching out too long, Link was starting to furrow his eyebrows at him; he wanted to refuse but could think of no excuse that seemed plausible. “Yeah, cool, that’d be great.” He stuttered out, slowly bending to place his guitar back into its case. 

Link smiled at him. “Cool. Let me go make sure the clippers are in the bathroom.” With that Link turned and left the room, Rhett nodding after him. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, wiping his hands on his thighs to dry them from sudden clamminess.

____________________

When he stepped into the small bathroom, Link was wiping at the clippers with some wadded-up toilet paper. He looked up at Rhett as he came into view, smiling sheepishly. “Forgot to clean them last time I used them. At least it’s just mine. What’s a little hair between friends?” He laughed and placed them onto the sink vanity. “Can you grab a towel?”

Rhett nodded and opened the linen closet, pulled out a worn towel and wrapped it around his shoulders. Link slid open the shower curtain and motioned for Rhett to sit down. “I was thinking of changing up the guides I use. Instead of using a number one all over your head, what if I used number two on the top? I think it would look better. Like, give you less of that helmet-head look?” He looked inquiringly at Rhett, searching for his reaction. “I think I could even get the fade right if I’m careful.” 

Rhett stood in place, only half paying attention to the question Link had asked. “Sure, man, whatever.” He shrugged. “Your call.” 

Link frowned slightly. “I mean, I could just do it like normal, if you want.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s no big deal.” 

Rhett shook his head and tried to lighten his tone of voice. “Nah, try it. I trust you.” He turned up his mouth in a not-quite-convincing manner. 

Link nodded, smiling, obviously placated. “Yeah, better make you look good.” He smirked, eyes glinting. “You need all the help you can get, man.” He chuckled, and Rhett knew there was no malice in the statement. He smirked and rolled his eyes at the joke.

Link motioned his head toward the bathtub. “Sit down, man, I’ll do the back first.”

And Rhett obeyed, carefully stepping into the bathtub and facing the wall, trying to settle comfortably on the hard edge of the tub. He sucked in a silent breath as he felt Link come up right behind him, sudden warmth all along his back. He closed his eyes and swallowed, throat tight, and steeled himself against a burst of sudden heat that flushed through him. He told himself to calm down, to keep it together, not to make it weird. It wasn’t weird, after all; they did this all the time, and just because their bodies were in closer proximity than normal didn’t mean anything, didn’t have to make Rhett’s heart speed up as fast as it was. He felt Link’s fingers brush gently against the sides of his head, assessing hair there, getting a feel for where to begin. 

Link was standing so close to him that he felt as well as heard him speak. “Don’t worry, man, I won’t mess you up. Worst that happens, I’ll just buzz the whole thing.” Rhett nodded, not concerned with the state of his hair at all, too focused on ignoring the sensation of Link’s belt buckle pressed up against his spine. A loud buzzing filled the small space as Link turned on the clippers, and Rhett tried to space out, bring his thoughts to basketball or his Calculus homework or anything, anything at all other than Link’s left hand gently cupping the side of his head and the vibration of the blade running a path over his skull.  

Rhett kept his eyes closed, expending all his energy on regulating his breath, stilling his shaking hands, keeping his heart from pounding so loudly Link would surely be able to hear it. His desires warred within him, trying both to shut out any sensation, to ignore the thrill he felt with every brush of Link’s hand on his head, and reveling in it, leaning into every touch, shuddering slightly when Link’s fingers brushed against the tender spot where his head and neck met. He held his breath as Link briefly turned the clippers off to change the guide, sure that he could hear Rhett’s rushing blood and pounding pulse. 

Link took his time, and it started to become too much stimulation for Rhett to keep it together; the vibration of the clippers moving slowly against his skull, the soft prickle of shorn hair falling on the base of his neck, the heat of Link’s body nearly pressed up against his (was it perfectly necessary for him to stand so close?), and worst of all, Link’s careful hands, feather-light touches tilting his head this way and that, palms scrubbing against his head every so often, assessing the length and feel of his hair. Rhett felt light-headed and hot all over, and in a sudden rush of pleasure and shame he felt arousal begin to swell in his groin. He could feel the tips of his ears burning, intensely sure his whole head was bright red, and his hands trembled as he clenched them together, begging his body to stop betraying him; his stupid teenage body, too full of hormones to realize that this simple act was not sexual, should in no way be turning him on right now. And yet here he was, his hands in his lap, biting his lower lip at the sensation of his erection pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He clenched his eyes closed even tighter, fighting the urge to stiffen his shoulders and back, desperately trying to keep Link unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Rhett’s mind unloosed a string of desperate prayers, thoughts not even fully formed —   _please God make it stop please make it go away please_ — but his body only responded by becoming harder, hotter, and Rhett was sick with himself. Link’s deft hands continued to move along his head and neck, feather-light and tender, and he thought of dead animals on the side of the road and his Grandmother’s horrible perfume and the stained-glass windows of the church, grasping at anything to keep his mind free of the lust churning through him. 

His eyes sprung open as the room abruptly fell silent. Link tapped his shoulder twice and directed, “Ok, turn around so I can get the front. I want to make sure to make everything’s even.” Rhett’s stomach plummeted; he nodded and stood up slowly, maintaining a slight crouch to hide his groin from Link’s direct sight. He breathed out carefully, trying to bring a casual expression to his face instead of the terror currently eating at him. Link backed up so Rhett could re-settle on the edge of the tub and cocked his head, eyes raking over the curve of Rhett’s skull and the line of hair on his forehead. His eyes flicked suddenly to Rhett’s, and his mouth curved downward. “Are you, ok, man? You’re all red. And, like, sweaty.” 

Rhett gulped, feigning a light-hearted chuckle. “It’s just the clippers, I guess. The vibration, it feels weird.” He paused. “Plus it’s hot in here. Aren’t you hot?” He blanched internally at his unintended innuendo, but kept his face plain, pulling slightly at the towel wrapped against his neck, rubbing his other palm over the smooth porcelain of the tub. 

Link shrugged. “Not really,” he said, dismissively. He assessed Rhett once more, and moved to step towards his body. Rhett felt him come closer, still acutely aware of the erection that he hoped was not conspicuous, and tensed as Link kept moving forward, up against Rhett’s knees. Link tapped of one Rhett’s knees with his own, a silent command to spread them apart, and Rhett reflexively opened them. His blood ran cold as Link stepped closer again, settling one of Rhett’s thighs in between his, mere inches away from his very obvious arousal. 

Thankfully Link wasn’t looking anywhere but at his hair, too focused on his task, seemingly unaware that Rhett was close to dying from embarrassment and stress. He closed his eyes again as Link’s warm body leaned towards him and the clippers roared to life. His resolve was crumbling, quickly, and he couldn’t stop himself from cracking open his eyes, leaning his trunk forward, closer to Link’s chest, and breathing in the intimate moment. Link bent over slightly, eyes still intent on Rhett’s hair, and Rhett kept his eyes forward, soaking in the line of Link’s torso, mere inches from his face. He felt Link’s hands on his forehead and his sideburns, feeling for a straight and even hairline, and closed his eyes again at the touch. He knew he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t indulge in the intimacy of Link’s body next to his, but he found he simply couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t withstand the crush of desire and affection that he was shouldering. His shoulders tensed as he shifted his hips, keeping his face blank despite the jolt of pleasure that ran through him. His whole body felt tight and hot and he was overly aware of every nerve ending he currently possessed as he sat on the uncomfortable edge of a porcelain bathtub and guiltily enjoyed his best friend’s hands on him.

Link was not a quick barber on a normal day, and this haircut seemed to last for years, for decades; Rhett wondered if he’d lived the entirety of his life in this tiny bathroom, as close to Link as he could remember being, and would ultimately perish here. Eventually, Link stepped back from him, a sudden rush of cool air between them, and looked at Rhett, clearly satisfied. “Alright, man, take a look. I think it’s pretty good, but let me know if you want me to touch up any spots.” 

Rhett brought a hand up to rub at his hair, now much shorter, and felt at the edge of the fade Link had made. It felt smooth, and he stalled there a bit, fingers brushing his scalp and trying to figure out how to stand up without drawing attention to his arousal, which — thankfully — was lessening at the loss of contact. After a moment he stood, turning quickly towards the sink, and glanced up at the mirror. 

He met his own eyes in the mirror and was taken aback; he hardly recognized himself. It wasn’t the difference in physical appearance — it was as if something inside him had abruptly changed. His eyes conveyed a shift he couldn’t identify, some transformation deep within him. Surely he was imagining things; one moment of weakness and unrestrained longing could not turn him into someone new so immediately, without warning? 

He sensed movement out of the corner of his eye, and his gaze shifted to see Link come up behind him, frowning slightly. His expression was nervous, unsure, and Rhett realized he had been silent for a while with his face uneasy. He quickly appraised the haircut, unwilling to hurt Link’s feelings. As he averted his attention, he realized with pleasure that he, in fact, looked quite good. One corner of his mouth slid up slightly as he met Link’s eyes in the mirror, and his smile spread wider. 

“It looks good, man. Really good. You were right about the clips, it looks awesome. Thanks.” Rhett’s heart flipped as Link beamed, eyes crinkling in the corners, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. He was clearly pleased with himself, and Rhett realized he would do anything at all to have Link look at him like that. He rubbed at the back of his neck as they looked at each other through the mirror for a few moments, both smiling broadly. 

Link brought a hand up to Rhett’s shoulder. “Well, glad you like it. You look good, if I do say so myself.” He clapped Rhett’s shoulder once before turning away. “I’ll get the broom and sweep up.” 

Rhett nodded, turning back to himself in the mirror as Link closed the door. With his friend out of the room, Rhett’s expression fell once again into uncertainty. He was churning inside, scared and ashamed of himself, of his feelings, of the intimacy of the moment. He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hands against them, pushing hard until light burst behind his eyelids. He felt more confused than ever, not knowing whether to feel angry or guilty or pleased; his head raced and the knot in his chest returned. He sighed, the thoughts in his head sounding melodramatic even to himself. 

Link returned, broom in hand, and made short work of cleaning up the stray hair strewn about the tile floor. Rhett remained unmoving, inspecting himself in the mirror, head reeling and hands starting to tremble. He turned abruptly, still holding his hands in front of his lingering arousal, and blurted out, “I’m gonna shower.” 

Link looked up from sweeping. “Now?” 

Rhett nodded, a bit manic, feeling punch-drunk. “Yeah, I mean. I got hair all over me, you know? Might as well do it now … ” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck again and showing Link the hair that stuck to his palm. 

Link nodded. “Yeah, ok.” He paused. “Wanna watch a movie after? It’s still pretty early.” Rhett nodded, itching for Link to leave so he could undress and get into a frigid shower. “You wanna pick?” Rhett shook his head; they could watch grass grow for all Rhett cared as long as Link moved more than five feet away from him. 

“Ok. I’ll call for the pizza, too.” Rhett nodded, stepping closer to the shower, anxiety increasing with every moment. Link picked up the broom and dustpan and finally left the claustrophobic space. 

Rhett yanked off the towel around his neck and threw it to the floor, forcing it to bear the brunt of his frustration. He turned on the cold water tap, not sparing a glance for the hot, and quickly stripped, throwing his clothes haphazardly around the room. He let out a yelp as he stepped into the shower, the shock of the freezing water jolting him out of his own thoughts, and the icy pinpricks along his skin immediately had him shivering. It served its purpose, however, his erection withering as every part of him retracted, all memory of arousal now evaporating in the face of painful cold. He nudged the hot water tap with his foot, just slightly, as he wrapped his arms around himself, chest nearly numb from bearing the direct spray of water. The water warmed just enough so that he didn’t feel like he was being ripped apart by so many tiny swords, and he released his arms to grab the soap, running it over his shoulders, his back, down his legs — pointedly avoiding the traitorous flesh in between his legs —- and bent to put his head under the water, scrubbing away the loose hair from his scalp and neck. 

Though his shower was brief, he felt immeasurably better than he had before it. The shock of cold, the cleansing of the water — he felt almost as if the past three-quarters of an hour had been a fevered dream, an embarrassing vision that only he was privy too. He stepped out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He breathed deeply as he dressed, trying to pull himself back together, gather up all the scattered pieces and place them back into a semblance of a recognizable person. He closed his eyes and took a few more breaths before opening the door to join his friend, determined to make it through the rest of the evening without losing himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew a haircut could be so intimate? Not Rhett, that's for sure. 
> 
> Just a reminder that Chapter 6 will post next Friday, but after that there will be two weeks in between updates, at least until I can build up another significant buffer of writing. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos and feedback in general!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features some acute internalized homophobia, and some mentions of religion. 
> 
> I just want to thank everyone who's commented and kudos'ed here and reblogged and messaged me on tumblr, I've seen all your comments and tags and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. It brings me unspeakable joy to know that this story resonates with folks. Also I'm a sucker for that validation, you feel me? Thanks for everything.
> 
> This chapter as a listening assignment! If you enjoy that sort of thing the listening assignment is Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan.

Taking a few deep breaths, Rhett stepped out into the hallway, skin and hair still damp, and went downstairs. He found Link on the living room couch, movie case in hand.

Link looked over his shoulder at him as he entered, and held up the VHS tape. “Young Frankenstein?” He asked. Rhett nodded; they’d both seen the movie before, more than once, but it never failed to make Link hysterical, and Rhett’s heart leapt at the thought of hearing his high and lilting laughter. 

Rhett settled on the couch, as far from Link as he could manage. He breathed in deeply, turning his eyes to his own knees as Link bent over to push the tape into the VCR. He sucked in a breath when Link sat back on the couch, not at the far end where he had been but on the middle cushion, leaving a hair’s breadth of space between them. Rhett adjusted, slightly, moving even closer to the arm of the couch, trying to seem casual. As the movie’s title flashed across the screen, Link settled back in the cushions, resting an ankle over his opposite knee, fully eradicating the blessed space between their thighs. Rhett hoped his blush wasn’t visible in the low light of the room; he felt warm all over, and his left thigh — which was now flush against Link’s — burned white hot. He casually touched his fingertips to his temple, trying in vain to rid his forehead of the perspiration there. He cleared his throat and stared at the television screen as if it held the answers to the universe. 

The next hour and forty-six minutes were the longest of Rhett’s life. He might not have taken a full breath the entire time they sat there, Link resolutely pressed against him, completely unaware of Rhett’s inner turmoil. Rhett stared at the screen, not turning to his head to admire the line of Link’s neck when he threw his head back in laughter, not averting his eyes when Link clapped his hand down on Rhett’s knee in amusement, not glancing down at the long expanse of Link’s thigh, his loose shorts riding high up his leg. When their pizza arrived, he stared at the floor while Link went to the door, came back and placed the boxes on the coffee table in front of them, and sat back down again, as close to Rhett as before. He plowed through the pizza, one slice after another, thankful for another thing to distract him from the warmth of Link’s skin through his thin basketball shorts. 

If he hadn’t seen the movie before, he wouldn't have absorbed a moment of it; thankfully he could anticipate the jokes, the appropriate times to smile and laugh and lightly jab Link’s side with his elbow, retreating quickly, careful not to linger. He ignored the sound of Link’s laughter, the low chuckles and lilting giggles and breathy snickering. 

When the words ‘The End’ finally faded onto the screen, Rhett jumped from the couch immediately. Link looked up at him, startled. Rhett smiled down at him weakly, turned his attention to the pizza boxes, busied himself consolidating the few remaining slices and shuffling them back into the kitchen. 

He set the boxes down on the kitchen countertop and took a deep breath in. He braced his hands against the edge, leaning over a bit as the let the breath out slowly, steadily. His palms slid a little against the laminate and he stood, wiping them against his thighs. His left hand lingered on the side of the leg that had been pressed against Link’s; he felt the absence acutely, and though he still felt warm, far too warm, the length of his thigh felt cold and bereft of touch. He took another deep breath, and startled at the sound of Link’s voice in the doorway. 

“You alright, man?”

Rhett whipped around, eyes slightly wide. “Huh?”

Link narrowed his eyes at his friend, suspicious. “You ok? You’ve been real jumpy tonight.” Rhett swallowed, hard, and willed a look of false calm onto his face. He was stupid to think Link wouldn’t notice his odd behavior. Link noticed everything about him. 

“I’m fine. Just — tired, I guess.” Rhett rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and leaned a hip against the counter. “Basketball, you know. I didn’t keep up with my conditioning before practice started, so …” He trailed off a bit, knowing his lie was feeble. He thought himself a decent stretcher of the truth when necessary; he had just never needed to lie to Link before, and found himself bad at it. “I’m just tired.” 

Link nodded, his lips pressed together. He didn’t look completely placated, but didn’t press. “Alright. Maybe we should just go to bed then.” He smiled, tight-lipped, and leaned a hand against the doorway. “I’ll go set up the air mattress. You mind putting the food away?” 

Rhett nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” He smiled as wide as he could manage as Link turned, still looking pointedly at him, and ascended the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, Rhett rubbed his hands across his face, pressing the heels of his hands forcefully into his eyes. _Pull yourself together, McLaughlin._ He counted to ten, up and down again, breathing deeply and releasing the air slowly with each measure. This was getting completely out of hand. He thought of lying in Link’s room, looking up at his friend on the bed above the battered old air mattress, hearing the steady breathing of his slumber. He gulped. He would be fine. He would just go upstairs, settle in, and hopefully fall asleep. He wasn’t entirely lying to Link — he felt exhausted, though maybe more emotionally than physically. He’d go to sleep, and maybe things would seem calmer in the light of day; he prayed he would awake with more composure than he felt at this moment. He just had to make it through tonight. 

He wrapped up the slices of pizza carefully before putting them away — he had enough wherewithal not to mess with with careful organization of the Neal refrigerator. He pushed the door closed, and laid his head against it, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, giving himself a second to collect himself. He picked his head up before striding across the room, bounding up the stairs, and heading down the hallway to Link’s bedroom. 

He walked in to see Link glaring at a mound of plastic and rubber that he took for the air mattress. He looked up at Rhett as he entered the room and frowned. “Bad news, man. Air mattress finally bit the dust.” 

A lump lodged in Rhett’s throat. “What?”

Link nodded and picked up the side of the plastic mess, revealing a sizable tear. “I can’t even get it to inflate. Sorry.” 

“Uh … so … I guess I’ll take the couch?” Rhett swallowed thickly, already moving to pick up his duffel bag. 

Link made a face. “Uh, if you want. I just figured we could share. My bed’s still big enough for both of us, right?” He stood up, kicking the air mattress out of his way and smirked. “I’ll even let you be the little spoon.” 

Rhett stood, stiff and uncertain. He tried to chuckle at the joke, tried to buy himself a moment to work through the conflict in his mind. His instinct was to run, far away, to not even consider sharing a bed with Link, but he knew to protest would be even more suspicious than he was already acting. They had shared a bed dozens of times, as recently as a few months ago, and it had never been weird, they had never even thought about it before. Rhett had woken up with Link’s face nearly pressed up against his, his limbs thrown every which way, wrapped around Rhett like vines. And, deep down, in the places where he couldn’t keep up any pretenses, he _wanted_ that, desperately, right now. A rapidly growing part of him was saying _yes, please, lay down next to me, press up close to me, hold me tight against you, let me feel you breathe._ He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself nodding, smiling. “Yeah, sure. Your couch sucks anyway.” 

Link smiled, wide. “Just don’t steal the blankets again. You know my feet get cold.” 

Rhett smirked, in spite of himself, and felt something in his chest release. “As long as you don’t snore in my ear. You’re honestly deafening.” 

Link laughed as he moved to his closet, pulling out extra pillows. “As long as you don’t strip in your sleep again, old buddy, old pal. I only need to wake up with your bare ass in my face once in a lifetime, thank you.” 

Rhett flushed, instantly, from the tips of his ears to his pinky toes. He gritted his teeth against the images that rushed into his mind, and smiled, maintaining a light tone. “I’ll do my best, man.” He cleared his throat and turned away, busying himself grabbing his toothbrush from his bag, keeping his face down as he headed to the door. “I’m gonna go wash up.”

He strode quickly back to the bathroom, head down, face still burning. He took deep breaths and didn’t spare a glance at himself in the mirror; he merely turned on the faucet and set about brushing his teeth, pulse still uneven. 

Before he could even get going on his molars, he saw the door open out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and watched Link come up next to him at the sink and reach for his own toothbrush. Link smiled as he met Rhett’s sight in the mirror, and Rhett stared at his hands as they moved, grabbing the toothpaste and gently squeezing the tube from the end, smoothing out the dent that Rhett had left when he had unthinkingly crushed the middle of it. Without a word Link started on his own teeth, making slow and even circles from the front to the back of his mouth. 

Rhett caught sight of them in the mirror — standing at the sink, Link making faces at him in the mirror, going about their business in tandem. The moment struck Rhett as so comfortable and homey; so quiet and routine and easy, something that people who had lived together for a long time would do, something his parents would do, and suddenly, Rhett couldn’t hold it together anymore, he couldn’t fight; with nothing but a whimper, Rhett let go. 

The tension eased from his shoulders, his face, his back. He smirked around his toothbrush at Link and gently hip-checked him as he reached to rinse his toothbrush. Link protested, “Hey!” without any venom, his grimace not reaching his eyes, and bumped Rhett right back, frowning in earnest when Rhett didn’t move so much as an inch. Rhett’s eyes crinkled in amusement as they continued playfully, nearly knocking heads as they leaned in to spit at the same moment, splashing each other from the faucet, and in Rhett’s mind he was 30 years old and this was their home, their life, one night of many when they would brush their teeth together, walk down the hall together, climb into bed together. He had lost the battle within himself, left his confusion and fear far behind. He imagined placing his hand against the small of Link’s back as he crossed to leave the bathroom, so he did it. Link turned his head to smile as he held the door open for Rhett to follow.

The smile on Rhett’s face was the first one he hadn’t faked all night. 

He smiled as they walked into Link’s bedroom together, as he placed his toothbrush back into his duffel bag, as he watched Link turn down his blankets. He felt like laughing — the release of tension and terror had left him bubbling over, giddy with the butterflies in his stomach and the pounding of his heart. He sat on the edge of the bed as Link walked to the light switch and cast the room into darkness. The curtains on the window didn’t block out all the moonlight, and Rhett smiled as his eyes adjusted to the change in light, as he watched Link cautiously make his way over the bed. Rhett slid under the covers, feeling overly hot with his pants still on but not so far gone that he thought taking them off was in any way a good idea. He lay back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and focused on the feeling of Link sliding into bed next to him. He imagined turning onto his side, imagined gazing at the outline of Link’s face and smiling; so he did. As he moved he found Link already turned to face him, and they both laughed softly as they caught each other’s eye. Link’s smile was wide and caught the moonlight; Rhett all but swooned. 

Link yawned exaggeratedly, lifting his arms up over his head, and rolled onto his back. He turned his head to look at Rhett, and whispered, “Goodnight, Rhett.” 

Rhett smiled fondly, his heart swelling. “Night, Link. Try not to catch any flies tonight, yeah?” 

Link snorted. “I’ll do my best. Sleep tight.” 

Rhett nodded, stifling a yawn himself. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” 

Link chuckled softly, eyes closed, and Rhett knew he was already halfway to unconsciousness. He rolled himself over onto his back, breathing in deeply and feeling the warmth on his left side, body heat radiating through the blankets. Rhett closed his eyes and breathed in deeply a few times. For several minutes he simply laid there, listening to the gentle sounds of the wind outside and Link’s deep, even breathing, relishing the nearness of his friend and the ease of his own heart. After a while he dared to glance over, and sure enough Link was dead asleep, arms flung above his head and mouth wide open, hair fanned out on the pillow underneath his head.

Rhett moved slowly, gently, turning once again onto his side to stare at his best friend. He couldn’t get over how different Link looked in sleep — Rhett never noticed the tension Link carried, the way his hands trembled and his limbs shook and his eyes darted until all that movement ceased. Link in sleep looked practically dead, body heavy and solid and warm, mouth gaping, his limbs splayed out without care or concern. Rhett couldn’t help but smile, sinking down deep into the affection he finally allowed himself to feel; Link was his best friend, knew him better than anyone else on Earth, and right now all Rhett could think about was the way Link’s body felt so close to his, the way his eyelids fluttered sweetly, the dim light casting shadows onto the deep valleys of his face. 

Rhett startled when Link moved suddenly, flopping onto his side, left arm thrown onto the bed between them, face now inches from Rhett’s. He took a deep breath and briefly thought of moving backwards, of reestablishing the space between them, but found he didn’t want to; he didn’t want to move unless he was moving closer, so for now he merely stayed still, allowing himself to want this moment, to want this closeness, to want his friend. He allowed himself to drift his hand up to where Link’s palm lay flat against the bed, allowed himself to inch their fingertips closer together until they almost nearly touched; his chest ached with wanting, and he imagined again that this was their home, that this was their bed, and he was allowed to touch Link, to _want_ him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the lump in his throat. He had never felt desire like this — not merely desire for someone’s kiss, for their body, but desire for their presence, a closeness that had nothing to do with physical proximity; a thing that he realized he’d always had with Link, practically since the day they both scribbled nonsense words onto their elementary school desks, and he had always taken it for granted as friendship, as brotherhood.

He didn’t think it was friendship anymore. 

Some corner of his mind was numb with utter terror, but he shielded himself from it for the moment. He was tired, he was so tired of the fear and the anger and the feeling of being wrong, of hating what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to do it now — in the darkness, in Link’s bedroom, in Link’s bed, he wasn’t going to hate himself or talk himself down; he let himself feel all of it, and felt electric with it all. Their fingertips were not even a centimeter apart, and in the courage that comes only in the hazy moments between twilight and dawn he moved; he slid his fingers softly, gently on top of Link’s, didn’t grip them, didn’t press down. He merely let his hand rest there, and heat exploded out from where their skin touched — Rhett felt scorched clean with the contact, and thought that surely the crackle of sparks would rouse Link from slumber. It didn’t. Link slept on, breathing steady and sure, while Rhett’s entire being burned white hot. 

Rhett slid his hand away and wiped the dampness from his palm on the bedsheets. He took a few steadying breaths, closing his eyes against the pounding in his temples. He felt the dark corner of his mind fighting for freedom, but he ignored it — he would sit in his fantasy for now, and forgive himself in this moment; he would deal with reality with the break of day. He merely breathed and allowed himself rest, without fear, without judgement; he allowed himself to simply be.

____________________

Rhett didn’t remember falling asleep, didn’t remember edging closer and closer to Link until their foreheads pressed together, didn’t remember twining their ankles together before he slipped into the most restful sleep he’d gotten in weeks. But when he opened his eyes in the morning, he remembered touching Link’s fingertips with his; he opened his eyes to Link’s breath hot on his face, lips centimeters from his cheek. He opened his eyes and all the fear and all the shame and all the anger rushed through him and he nearly heaved with it — the cold rush of _what was I thinking I’m sick I’m so sick oh God_ forcing itself upon him. He pulled back quickly, jostling the bed as he flung himself away from his friend. He heard Link start to stir but he didn’t look, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and turned his back on Link, standing up and rushing to the bathroom where he most decidedly did not bring himself off in the Neal’s bathroom, where he did not think of large breasts and smooth legs and long blonde hair, pretending the thought of the these detached body parts did anything to stir his lust; he most certainly did not shake in terror when he heard soft knocks on the door and a rough voice say, “Don’t hog the thing, man, I gotta pee, too, ya know.” He did none of those things, just as much as he did not imagine living a long, sweet life with the man — _the man,_ he reminded himself — standing just outside the door.

Rhett begged off early that morning, mumbling excuses about running errands with his mother, and turned his face away from the disappointed look Link gave him. He barely glanced Link’s way as he gathered his things, shouting his goodbyes as he sped down the walkway. His hands shook on the steering wheel as he made his way down the quiet morning roads, not once taking a full breath until he parked in front of his own house. 

He hit his head against the steering wheel, then did it again. He thought of his mother in her robe, surely shuffling through the house and not expecting him for hours. He thought of his father, and his stomach curled at the memory of being chided, being warned about _getting in over his head, putting himself in temptation’s way,_ and he choked back a sob. 

The next morning, after sitting white-knuckled through the longest church service of his life, he took several deep breaths before approaching Pastor Adam in the fellowship hall. 

“Rhett!” The pastor greeted him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Ready for the season to start? I heard your first game’s next week!” 

Rhett nodded, fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, sir, it is. I was actually wondering if I could talk to you some time soon. Uh, in private.” 

Pastor Adam’s smile faded slightly, concern replacing politeness. “Of course. I’m assuming you don’t want advice on free throws?” 

Rhett swallowed thickly around the lump that had been in his throat since the previous morning. “No, sir. I can’t stay today but … some other time this week?”

The pastor nodded seriously. “Of course. We’ll work out what’s troubling you.” 

Rhett closed his eyes, and prayed, and prayed, and prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that Chapter 7 will be posted in **two weeks,** on Friday, April 14th. Hopefully it's not too long a wait and it only builds anticipation! Again, please always come to me with questions or comments or just if you want to chat!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that this chapter features a conversation with a religious leader who offers well-intentioned but slightly harmful spiritual counsel. I'm happy to provide a summary if you feel uncomfortable reading the scene, and I'll talk a bit more about it in the end notes. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading and supporting this story!

Rhett let out a soft sigh as he crossed the threshold into the church sanctuary, still and quiet and chilly in the early morning. He surveyed the pews he’d sat in for years, the long table at the front of the room where each week he broke bread and drank wine, the modest altar where the pastor spoke every week about righteousness and sin, guilt and forgiveness, and he closed his eyes against a pulse of wordless prayer. The early morning sun was just starting to come in through the vivid stained glass, not yet enough to illuminate the room with the bright colors of the painted images. 

Rhett couldn’t remember the last time he’d voluntary risen before the sun, and yet today he opened the church’s door at precisely 6:30 a.m. ( _should we meet after school? I have practice every day this week. I’m free beforehand, if you’re willing. Yes, please, thank you_ ) and prepared to walk into Pastor Adam’s office. He took a deep breath and walked up the center aisle, through the side door, through the fellowship hall, and down the long hallway to the church offices. The hallway was dim, dark wood covering the walls and floor, worn plaques commemorating former pastors dotting the wall at uneven intervals. Rhett saw an open door about halfway down the hall, and approached slowly. He saw Adam, sitting at his desk, head bent low over a large book with very small writing. He knocked, gently, on the doorframe.

Adam looked up at the knock and gave Rhett a warm smile. “Rhett! Come in, sit down.” Rhett smiled weakly and nodded. He stepped into the room and, nerves winning over, closed the door shut behind him. Adam grinned at him. “I’m sure you’re tired, up this early. I’m not usually here quite so soon myself, but it’s always nice to see the sunrise.” 

Rhett settled into a hardback wooden chair, edges worn and smooth, and rubbed the palms of his hands across his knees. He could feel Adam’s eyes on him but couldn’t meet his gaze, not yet. “Yes, sir. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I appreciate it, pastor.” 

He heard a huff of breath. “I think we’re past ‘sir,’ and ‘pastor,’ Rhett.” Rhett raised his head to meet Adam’s eyes, and breathed out, an attempt at laughter. Adam had one eyebrow cocked and a smirk across his lips. “You didn’t call me ‘pastor’ when you nailed me with water balloons full of shaving cream at our last youth night.”

Rhett let out a genuine chuckle at the memory from just over a month ago; Adam laughing so hard he was bent double, shaving cream covering his head and chest as Rhett and some others stood poised with more weapons at the ready, unable to stop laughing long enough to launch their attack. “You’re the one who let us get our hands on shaving cream in the first place,” he jibed, still laughing. “You’d think they would’ve taught you better at that fancy seminary you went to.” 

Adam let out a short, loud laugh. “You’d think that would be in the coursework, but clearly my theological education was lacking.” Rhett smiled, softly, eyes trailing back down to his lap. 

The knot in Rhett’s chest released, just a little, as he remembered why he had come here, why he was placing his trust in this man. Not that he even knew what he was going to say, or how much he could admit; he’d tossed and turned the night before, imagining how he could possibly phrase the confusion and guilt and desire within him without incriminating himself. He just knew he needed to talk to someone, however vague and careful he had to be.

He looked up again and saw Adam looking inquiringly at him. “Now I could go on with some small talk, but I know you’ve got to be at school in less than an hour and you seemed like you had something serious you wanted to talk about.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward slightly in his chair. Rhett pressed his lips together and nodded. “So what’s on your mind, Rhett?” 

Rhett took a deep breath and let it out of his nose. He picked at a fray on the left knee of his jeans, and didn’t know where to start. He was quiet for a long minute, breathing deeply and having absolutely no idea what to say. 

“You know,” Adam said, glancing at the closed door behind Rhett, “anything you tell me is confidential. Unless you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else, I won’t — I _can’t_ — say a word to anyone else. Not the church staff, not your parents. If that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Rhett nodded, taking in another deep breath, still not meeting Adam’s eyes. He rolled his thoughts around his head, trying to weigh how much he wanted to reveal; he formed his sentences carefully, considering each word before he let it off his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about ... relationships.” He saw Adam nod out of the corner of his eye, urging him to continue. “And boundaries. Between friends. And … more than friends.” Rhett looked at Adam up through his eyelashes and saw him purse his lips together, but he didn’t speak; he merely looked like he was waiting for Rhett to say more. “Just … how do you know? What’s friendship. And what’s … not? When it’s more than that?” 

Rhett pressed his hands down flat against his thighs, willing them to stop sweating, his heart to stop pounding. He peeked up again and saw Adam looking at him with a soft expression on his face. Rhett’s stomach twisted at it. He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows, a silent plea. 

Adam let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over the opposite leg. “How do you know the difference between friendship and something more? Well, first thing is,” he said, pointing his finger at Rhett, “it’s not the same for everyone. Sometimes it sneaks up on you. You spend time with someone, get to know them, and then one day, they look different. Or you look at them differently. You notice things you didn’t notice before, or want to know more about them. You want to be around them more than you want to be around anyone else.” Adam smirked a bit. “You think about kissing them.” Rhett felt himself instantly turn pink, and ducked his head. Adam laughed at him, though not unkindly. “But like I said, it’s not the same for everyone. What’s got you confused, specifically?”

Rhett paused, thinking, then spoke softly, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “What if you’ve known someone a long time, as long as you can remember. And you care about them, and know everything about them, and they know everything about you. And you — you’ve always wanted to be around them more than anyone else, they’re just more interesting, and funnier, and get you more than anyone else does. But you — you always thought that was friendship? Just. Close friendship. And then something happens and you start to think … what if that’s not what friendship is? What if there’s … more there, and neither of you realize it, and you can’t stop thinking about — you know. Other things. Non-friendship things.” He could feel the flush creeping farther down his neck, into the collar of his shirt. “What if you don’t know when things changed? Or — how to go back?” He drew in a shaky breath, and glanced up tentatively. 

Adam was resting his elbows on the desk, hands clasped together. The look on his face was so reassuring and fond that Rhett felt the wild urge to sob. He spoke gently. “Rhett. There’s nothing wrong with having feelings for a girl.” 

Rhett blanched. The lump in his throat grew three times in size, and the air in the room seemed suddenly sharp and thin, as if he were overlooking a steep cliff. He pressed his hands tightly together, squeezing them between his knees. “What if.” He breathed, in and out, counted to ten. “What about feelings for a … person?” The last word came out barely a whisper, and he looked up desperately, his eyes begging, pleading for Adam to understand, to not make him say the words aloud. He trembled, and pressed his knees tighter around his hands. 

Rhett saw the moment Adam realized what he was asking. The fond expression fell; he moved slowly, steadily sitting up straight up in his chair. Rhett kept eye contact, willing himself not to look down, not to make himself appear more guilty than he already felt. The silence stretched on, and Rhett could see Adam thinking, choosing his words carefully, though Rhett could not imagine what they would be. 

After several tense moments, Adam said, voice low and earnest, “If I’m understanding you correctly, Rhett, you’re talking about something pretty serious.” Rhett sucked in a breath, but didn’t look away. “This is … it’s not something to take lightly. I’m glad you came to me.” Adam finally broke their tense eye contact, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “The first thing I need to know is — have you acted on these feelings?” 

Rhett’s thoughts turned back to the twilight of Link’s bedroom, covering his friend’s hand in his, softly moving Link’s hair behind his ear before drifting off to sleep. He didn’t think that was what he meant, however. 

He shook his head. “No. I — I’ve been trying to. To stop. Feeling.” 

Adam pressed his lips together and nodded. “Ok. Right, ok.” He leaned back in his chair again, closed his eyes, and angled his head toward the ceiling; Rhett got the distinct impression he was praying. After a moment he opened his eyes, and met Rhett’s gaze.

“I’m not going to yell at you, you know.” 

Rhett blinked, then blinked again. He had no idea how to respond to that, and he wasn’t sure he exactly relieved. He decided to wait Adam out. 

Adam sighed. “I won’t tell you this isn’t serious, but I also think you should know you haven’t done anything irreparable. You’re young, Rhett, and you’re on the cusp of some huge changes in your life. It’s not unheard of to project feelings onto inappropriate ... subjects.” The corner of Adam’s mouth quirked up, just for a second. “You might be surprised to know how common it can be.” 

Rhett was pretty sure he had stopped breathing. His hands dug into the muscles of his thighs, shoulders up around his ears. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it sure wasn’t … whatever this was. Reassurance? Understanding? And yet … Rhett swallowed thickly. He waited for the other shoe to drop. 

Adam gave him a pointed look. “It’s ok to have confusing feelings. You’re smart Rhett, and a lot more self-aware than most guys your age. Being really in tune with your emotions can be a blessing and a curse. I imagine you’ve been mulling this over for a while?”

Rhett swallowed again and nodded at his knees. He could feel an odd flush rise to his cheeks; he felt like Adam was praising him, but the sting of shame still felt sharp in his chest. “I never thought about it until …” _my father insinuated my relationship with my best friend was dirty and inappropriate._ “ … Until I did. And I tried to talk myself out of it, or convince myself I was overreacting. And now I don’t know what to do.” His voice rose in pitch at the end of his sentence; he felt slightly hysterical. Adam’s gentle understanding was making him feel more guilty than if he was admonishing him. 

Adam nodded, leaning forward again, tapping his forefinger against the desk. Rhett had never noticed how fidgety he was. “That’s ok. You can’t be expected to cope with this on your own. I’m glad you came to me.” He took a deep breath, looking determined. “I said you haven’t done anything wrong, and I mean that, Rhett. Feeling something is no sin, even if those thoughts and feelings aren’t necessarily from God. But now that you’re aware of these feelings, you have to guard yourself.” 

Rhett inwardly recoiled at his wording. His father’s voice rattled in his head: _better men than you have given in to temptation, and I want you to guard yourself._ He swallowed, throat suddenly thick. 

Adam continued. “You need to give yourself some distance from the situation. You said you’re close to this person — you may need to take a some space from this friendship. Emotional space, but physical space, too. Spending a lot of time alone with them won’t give you a chance to work through these feelings. You’ll just keep dwelling on them.” 

Rhett’s chest tightened. “But … for how long?” 

Adam shrugged. “You’ll have to work that out for yourself. However long it takes for you to get these feelings under control, if preserving this friendship important?” 

Rhett nodded quickly. “It’s important. It’s the most … yes, I want to.” 

“So taking time to sort yourself out now could keep the situation from getting out of hand. It’ll be worth it, Rhett. You don’t want to make a mistake you can’t undo.”

Rhett nodded again, slowly, not meeting Adam’s eyes. “But … it’s not just when h— they’re around that I feel this way. It’s all the time. Is there a way to separate the friendship feelings from the … inappropriate ones? In the meantime?” He needed to get over this as quickly as possible, could not waste any more time in their last year together being ridiculous and gross. He wanted his friendship back. 

Adam pressed his lips together firmly before speaking. “Well, obviously, you should spend some more time in prayer. Ask God to help you sort through the confusion, to lift those feelings from you. Take some real time to meditate and dwell with God, Rhett. Growing closer to Him will allow you to follow his path for you. And, since I know you, I think I have something else for you.” He stood up and crossed to the bookshelves lining the walls. He scanned them for a moment, running his fingertips over the spines of the books settled there before deftly plucking one out. He walked to Rhett and held out a well-worn book, turned up at the corners and rubbed soft at the spine.

Rhett took the book from him with a delicate hand. _A Long Obedience In The Same Direction_ was written in bold type on the cover. He looked up at Adam, eyes narrowed in question. 

Adam leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think this’ll help you out a bit. Think of it as the beginner’s guide to discipleship.” He smiled. “I read it a lot in seminary. Helped me keep my head on straight in the face of a lot of distractions.” 

Rhett nodded, rubbing his palm over the worn cover. He looked at the picture layered underneath the title; a close shot of three mountains, portrayed in blues and grays and the white of cloud cover. The image calmed him slightly. 

Adam reached over to Rhett and opened the book, flipping a few pages until he came to the index. “Now, I think you should read the whole thing, since it’s a fantastic book for your overall faith journey. But I think, for now, chapters twelve through fourteen will be particularly beneficial.” Rhett looked down where Adam’s forefinger rested. _Hope, Humility, Obedience_ read each chapter heading, respectively. He rubbed his own finger gently along the word obedience, emotion suddenly welling up to him. The be told what to do, to be obedient to something wiser and bigger than him suddenly seemed so good, the most wonderful feeling he could imagine. 

He closed the book and held it tightly in both hands, looking up at Adam where he stood. “Thank you. I think … I think this will help a lot.” 

Adam continued to look at him gently and reassuringly. “I think so, too. And remember, Rhett — there’s nothing wrong with you. You just got yourself turned around a bit. You’ll be fine.”

Emotion swelled within him again, and he knew it was time to make a hasty exit before he did something as atrocious as cry in front of a grown man he respected. He stood up from the chair a little too quickly, and found himself slightly disoriented at suddenly looking straight over Adam’s head. “Thank you. I will. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for meeting with me. I appreciate you taking the time.” 

Adam blinked quickly, catching up. “Of course. Anytime you need to talk to me, I’m here, Rhett. It’s my job, you know.” 

Rhett nodded quickly, moving backwards towards the door. “Of course. Right. I need to get to school but — thank you again. See you on Sunday.” 

Adam looked at him bemusedly, but didn’t question his need for an abrupt exit. “See you Sunday, Rhett.” 

Rhett walked into the hallway, leaving the door ajar behind him. He took the long hallway in long strides, traveling through the sanctuary without looking at any of it, holding his breath until he was outside at last. He slowed his footsteps down then, walking less urgently out to his car. 

He got into the car quickly, barely remembering to buckle the seatbelt before jetting off, making the short drive to school in record time. As he saw the building come into view around the corner, however, he turned wildly onto a side street and jerked the car into park. He sat there for a long time, watching the digital clock in the dashboard shift and change. It creeped closer and closer to the time he would normally meet Link in the parking lot, until it hit, until it passed it by, until he could hear the sharp ring of the first bell off in the distance, until he was certain to be late for homeroom, until he was a full fifteen minutes late for first period. His heart raced the entire time, and his hands were stiff and sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Finally, he took a deep breath in and laid his head down on the wheel, resting his forehead against the cold plastic. He tried not to imagine Link waiting for him, lips pressed together as he sat on the bed of his truck, twisting his hands together as he scanned the parking lot for his friend that never came. He ignored the twist of guilt in his chest that always hit when he felt like he disappointed Link. 

He hit his head against the wheel once. This was _for_ Link, what he was doing. It was so he could look at Link without the hot turn of desire in his belly, the need to touch him or make him blush or hold him close. It was so he could be the friend that Link deserved. Even if it hurt him now, a little bit, it would be worth it once Rhett could pull himself together. Years from now they wouldn’t even remember it, a brief moment of distance and uncertainty a mere blip in the narrative of their lives to come. 

He breathed in deep and let it out through his nose, counting to ten as he did so. It would be fine. He would get himself right and it would all be fine. 

____________________

It was after lunch when Rhett pushed open the door into the farthest-flung stairwell, two minutes behind the rest of the student body after forgetting his Calculus book in his locker. He jolted to a stop at the foot of the stairs, frozen at the sight of Link halfway up then, leaning against the railing, clearly waiting for something. Waiting for him.

For a moment they merely looked at each other. Link spoke first, hesitantly. “Hey. I … you weren’t at the car this morning. I figured you were sick or something, but Mike said he saw you third period.” He smiled weakly. “Everything ok?” 

Rhett still hadn’t moved. He clenched his hands on the straps of his backpack, looking at the window just past Link’s head. “Yeah. Overslept, sorry.” He smiled, just as weakly as Link, still not meeting his eyes. 

“Oh.” Rhett could see him scuff his foot against the stair where he stood, rubbing the front of his shoe into the half moon worn there from decades of student steps. “Ok. I know you have practice tonight so … I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” 

Rhett hated the uncertainty in his voice, the way he wasn’t looking directly at Rhett, either. “Um, well. I’ve been really tired lately.” He started, throat tight, but he forced himself to go on. “You know, practice has been rough and — I kinda need the extra sleep …” He trailed off, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Maybe we should. Take a break. From the mornings.” 

Link nodded at the wall facing him, face set in a tight expression that Rhett had never seen before. “Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Sure.” 

Rhett paled, backtracking desperately. “Just for a while. Until, you know, the season … settles.” What a lame, terrible excuse, one that Link clearly saw straight through. He knew it was shameful to put so little effort into a decent lie, into saving his friend’s feelings, but it took all the energy Rhett had left to even spin the pathetic fib. “Once I get used to it.” 

Link nodded again, arms on either side of him, hands clenched on the railing. “Sure, Rhett. Whatever you say.” 

Neither boy moved for a year, a decade, just stared past each other and breathed unevenly. Eventually, Rhett cleared his throat and lifted one foot onto the bottom step. “Right. See you … see you around, then.” He climbed the stairs, up past Link, who didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his farewell. He reached the doorway at the top of stairs, was just pushing it open when he heard a soft sigh and, just below normal speaking volume, “See you around, Rhett.” 

Rhett paused in the doorway for just a second, closed his eyes for just a moment, before pushing through the door, into the hallway, and towards his classroom, an apology for his lateness already on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to emphasize that I do not agree with or condone the theological ideology that Adam presents Rhett with. While his advice is well-meaning and he has compassion for Rhett, that type of counsel is fundamentally harmful and leads people onto paths of self-hatred and frustration with their own thoughts and feelings. The opinions he expresses are meant to be authentic to the time and place, not what I as the author perceive as right or ideal. I've stated before that I believe wholeheartedly that non-heterosexual identities and sexualities are completely compatible with Christian faith and community, but this is not an overarching belief even today, thus would not be a realistic belief for Adam to hold. 
> 
> The book Adam recommends is a real book, and it's an incredible read for discipleship and spiritual growth. I highly recommend it!
> 
> Come to me on [tumblr](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com) if you want to chat!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening Assignment: Troye Sivan - The Quiet; Mumford and Sons - Lover of the Light

Space. That’s what Adam said Rhett needed; physical space, emotional space. A chance to clear his head, to pray, to work through his _inappropriate_ feelings. So over the next few weeks, that’s what Rhett did — he gave himself space. 

Establishing physical space between them was easier than he expected. He actually was busy, when it came down to it, with basketball and school work and actually paying attention to his parents; he realized how much he really had gone out of his way to spend time with Link, any time they could, and Rhett felt a heaviness in his chest without him. Rhett saw him in the hallways and smiled, said hello as he passed, but didn’t linger. He didn’t invite Link over after practice to pretend to do their homework, he didn’t make plans for the weekend, he didn’t sit in the bed of Link’s truck with their legs pressed together; he made space where there wasn’t any before. He spent the weekend helping his dad around the house, watching movies with his mom, and realized how little time he’d been spending with them. His mom teased him about it, asked what Link was so busy with these days with an arched eyebrow. Rhett averted his eyes and didn’t answer.

He used his newly free moments before school to be still and to pray, which he discovered, to his surprise, he enjoyed. He used the restless hour after practice to read the book Adam gave him, and liked it so much he read the whole thing twice. 

He felt the efforts of these rituals working; he felt himself growing closer to God, felt the calm and reassurance seeping into all the anxious places, beginning to crowd out his doubt and self-loathing. In the past, he had approached faith with the goal of gaining knowledge; he thought that learning the historical context, the real meaning of this Greek word, what theologians thought this passage really meant, was what would deepen his faith. And it was, surely, but he had never before approached it from the inside out, never let God into all the cracks and fill them, to be quiet, to stop asking questions and let himself rest and listen. He really, really liked it.

Creating all this space, averting his eyes at Link’s scowls and questioning eyebrows, filling the void left with the voice of God, should have been helping Rhett disconnect emotionally. He thought that being away from Link, that not seeing him or laughing with him or being tempted to sit near enough to him to press their shoulders together would naturally lesson his emotions, his confusion, his longing. That filling his mind and heart with things that were supposed to be pure and good would push out all the bad things, all things wrong and sinful. 

It just wasn’t happening. 

He couldn’t figure it out. His mind and body felt clearer than ever — he was learning discernment, he could distinguish choices that seemed in line with his faith and those that didn’t, but his heart still picked up when he and Link made eye contact in the hallway at school. He was at the peak of his athletic performance, each pass and pivot and shot sure and purposeful, clearly impressing the college recruiters that had shown up at a couple of games, and yet his palms still grew damp when he caught a glimpse of Link’s smile, whether or not it was directed at him. Every time the phone rang he hoped it was Link, he took the long way to his classes on the off chance their paths would cross, he even came early to school a few times, hoping against hope that he would catch the line of Link’s back in the bed of his truck (he never did). He lay in bed at night and dwelt on the memory of his best friend’s body next to his, imagined their fingers brushing before he fell into fitful sleep. He’d woken up more than once with flushed skin and sticky sheets, images of skin and mouths and hands fading quickly in the daylight. He didn’t know why it wasn’t working, why he couldn’t shake away the feelings that sullied the foundation of their friendship.

So he pushed harder. More studying, more effort at practice, more prayer. He avoided Link completely, didn’t stop to chat between classes, held off submitting his college applications until Link’s name on their roommate request form stopped making his stomach flip. He ignored the tight line of Link’s mouth when he did manage to catch his eyes, the looks his mother gave him when he brushed off her questions about where Link had been, lied through his teeth at church when Adam asked him if he was working out his problem. 

His father had never been more pleased. Said he was proud of Rhett for working so hard in school, for how much his athleticism was improving. Rhett thought back to his last game, the sight of his father on his feet in the stands, urging him forward, shouting encouragement, and how it had spurred him on. He didn’t think of Link, sitting at the top of the bleachers with Mike and John and Matt, not making a sound, not even cheering at their hard-fought win. He did all the extra training his father had assigned, not complaining, pushing even harder than expected. The days sped by, the air turning colder and the leaves crisper and Rhett’s nerves thinner; then, suddenly, it was the middle of November. 

It was the coldest day so far that Rhett spent in front of his house, breath puffing out in soft clouds as he spent hours jumping on boxes in oddly-shaped shoes and sinking his favorite worn basketball smoothly into the net over and over, even as the sun dipped close to the horizon. He tried to push all confusion and twisting worry away, focusing on the motions that his muscles knew without a thought, the repetition of dribbling, aiming, releasing, running; again and again, the familiar rhythm of it all almost enough to quiet the pounding of his heart.

Rhett probably should’ve been surprised when Link showed up, but he wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been expecting to look up from shooting basket after basket and see Link park his car halfway down the dead-end street and slowly walk towards him as the sun hung low in the sky, shoulders bunched up against the cold, hands deep in his coat pockets; yet he’d almost been waiting for Link to confront him. Link wasn’t stupid, knew something was up; he wasn’t going to let this go on forever. Rhett closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and put his focus back on the arc of the ball into the hoop. He saw Link pause, just a few feet away from him, out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop shooting. He was almost finished, _289, 290, 291;_ he kept moving as Link stood there, staring at him with sharp eyes, pretending the trembling in his hands was from the cold. When he reached three hundred, he finally stopped, tucked the basketball underneath his arm, and turned to look in Link’s general direction. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Rhett played casual poorly, knew the easy-going tone in his voice sounded as phony to Link as it did to him. His breathing was still heavy, labored, and couldn’t even pretend that exercise was the only cause. He hadn’t been this close to Link in weeks, and the proximity made him feel light-headed and stupid. 

Link didn’t reply. Rhett felt the weight of his stare, and after an excruciating minute finally, finally brought his gaze up to meet Link’s. Rhett’s heart stuttered at the sight of him; he looked lovely and wild, cheeks bitten red from the rapidly dropping temperature and his eyes sharp and bright. For a moment they looked at each other, guilt and disappointment curling hot in Rhett’s chest; he’d told himself that hurting Link now would be worth it, but the anger and distress in Link’s face told him he did not agree. Rhett breathed deeply, unevenly, afraid of what Link could possibly say. 

Link maintained eye contact when he spoke. “Why have you been ignoring me?” 

Rhett’s stomach dropped. He should’ve expected it. Link wasn’t the type to beat around the bush, didn’t know how to play it cool, never let Rhett get away with his bullshit; in this moment, Rhett hated him for it, and the anger that rose up within him was sudden and overpowering.

Rhett felt the scowl twist his face into something ugly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know I’ve been busy.”

The crease in between Link’s eyebrows deepened. “Bullshit. You haven’t so much as talked to me in weeks, Rhett. _Weeks._ ” Link’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and he couldn’t quite hide the hurt from his face anymore; it only made Rhett angrier at him. “I don’t know what I did, or what’s going on, but I don’t know what to think, man! You’ve been acting so weird, and I thought it was basketball or your dad but you don’t seem to be avoiding anyone else but me, so enlighten me, Rhett — what did I do?” 

Flailing, stuttering, forgetting his parents were inside the house, that they were in the middle of the street, Rhett nearly yelled. “Can’t I just be busy? Can’t I just have things going on that don’t involve you? That don’t concern you?”

Link looked stricken, and Rhett didn’t blame him. Link was the first person he went to with everything, and he usually didn’t even have to say anything; Link just knew, knew from the set of Rhett’s jaw or the line of his shoulders what was bothering him. And he had never, ever kept anything from Link before. Link’s expression changed from surprise to indignation, brows gathered together tightly and lips pressed into a tight line, and Rhett knew he wasn’t going to let this go. 

He felt suddenly acutely exposed and aware of the scene they were making, aware of every window that made his neighbors privy to their conversation. He looked around, eyes falling on the old barn in the field across from them, just visible through the tight copse of trees. He and Link had played there as children, smashing panes of glass on the ground without regard for who they belonged to, or what they were doing there; he hadn’t been inside of it in years, but he remembered the smell of wood and dirt, the cool air inside, the seclusion it offered. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in one deep breath. “Come on, let’s go. Somewhere pr… somewhere else.” He motioned his head toward the barn, and after following his gaze Link nodded, stuffed his hands back in his pockets, and walked towards it without waiting to see if Rhett was following. They walked in silence, around the edge of the trees, until they reached the barn door. Rhett half expected it to be locked, but it groaned and creaked as Link forcefully slid it open. 

It was cooler inside the building than it was outside, and Rhett felt gooseflesh rise on his arms and legs, felt the adrenaline start to fade from this veins. He crossed his arms and hugged himself against the cold.

The chill in the air was nothing compared to the icy look on Link’s face. Now that they were alone, Rhett had no idea how to proceed. He couldn’t tell Link what he’d been struggling with, and couldn’t think of a lie that would justify his behavior. He felt the anxiety rise up in his throat as he realized he had quite literally backed himself into a corner. 

Link shook his head as he realized Rhett wasn’t going to start the conversation. “So, wanna tell me what’s going on?” His chest was moving rapidly up and down, and his left hand was tapping a frenetic beat against his thigh. 

Rhett swallowed deeply, drowning. “I just have stuff on my mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

Link’s eyebrows arched up, unconvinced. “Try me.” 

Rhett sighed, scrubbing one hand across his face. He could feel the sweat cooling on the back of his neck and it made the short hairs there stand on end. “It’s just … stuff, I don’t know what to tell you.” He felt hot behind his eyes. “Maybe I just have things on my mind that you don’t need to know, _Link,_ ” he practically snarled, defensive and skittish.

Link’s frown deepened, making the lines in his forehead push together. “Since when? You’ve never acted like this before. Even when — even when you’re caught up with a girl you never _ignore_ me, never gone weeks without talking to me. So I’m calling bullshit, ok? Tell me what’s going on.”

Rhett had almost never seen Link this agitated, and certainly never directed at him. He knew Link was hurting, was confused and angry and probably afraid; instead of that knowledge softening him, instead of feeling empathy, it warped inside of him and made him mad — all the confusion and doubt and fear of everything he knew about himself being turned upside down — it all burst within him. This was all Link’s fault, all of it, and he was so mad he couldn’t even see straight. What right did Link have, to come here and demand answers of him? To not even give Rhett a fucking chance to work out whatever evil, rotten thing had rooted itself inside of him that made him want to pull Link close even as he wanted to punch the teeth straight out of his mouth. Link had no right, he had _no right_ to do this to him anymore. 

Rhett knew, with bright clarity, that it was a mistake to open his mouth, and did it anyway. “What did you do? Nothing, Link! You haven’t done a damn thing!” He knew abstractly that he should control the volume of his voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Stop thinking this is about you, that everything is always about you! Can’t I have anything at all, Link? I’ve barely had anything in my damn life that’s just been about me, that you haven’t inserted yourself into, and now you want _everything_? Get over yourself.” 

Link visibly recoiled as soon as the words left Rhett’s mouth. He reared back, stunned, as if Rhett had hit him. The sun was sinking quickly, and sharp lines of orange light coming in through the cracks in the wood painted Link in strange angles. Rhett wanted to take everything back as soon as the words escaped; but he didn’t. They stared at each other, tense and fierce, and Rhett felt like he was going to implode from want and anger. He was so focused on not bursting into flames that he was wholly unprepared for Link’s outburst. 

Link closed the distance between them in an instant. “Bullshit!” He shouted, smacking Rhett in the chest as he rushed forward. “Bullshit! You think I don’t know you, Rhett?” Link was screaming, face red for reasons that had nothing to do with the November air. “I know you, man, and you can lash out all you want, try to get me to leave you alone, but I won’t. I won’t! So stop it with your fucking goddamn bullshit!”

Rhett stood in shock for a moment. He had never heard Link scream, not at anyone, not ever. Link was intense, he shouted in glee and excitement and nervousness, but never raised his voice to a person, not once. Rhett knew, immediately, that he had pushed too far. Link was breathing heavily, still close enough to hit Rhett, if he wanted to, and the cold finally seeped into Rhett’s bones as he took in the the hard lines of Link’s face. He pressed his lips together, at a loss for how to respond.

Link sagged as suddenly as his outburst had started, replacing the distance between them as he slumped against the wall behind him. “I dropped my applications off with Mrs. Allen today. She told me to remind you the deadline is right before break.” He let out a shaky sigh. “Why haven’t you handed them in yet?” His voice was quiet, unsure, and Rhett balked. 

“I just … want to make sure everything is … settled. First.” He felt a hot flush spread down his cheeks, his neck.

“Settled how?” Link’s eyes were narrowed at him. “We figured this out a month ago. I watched you write your essays. Is this … is it about basketball? Do you want to play now or something?” He seemed to pale before Rhett’s eyes. “If you changed your mind you should’ve told me. I would’ve waited. It’s too late now!” 

“No, it’s not —” Rhett started, then stopped. This wasn’t working, he wasn’t over it, he wasn’t getting over this. Even in his fear he felt affection and yearning for Link swell within him, and the thought of being with Link in college, the thought of _living_ with him; it was too much. What if he didn’t work through this? What if these thoughts and feelings followed him around, some cruel specter of sin, tainting his relationship with Link for the rest of his life? It was too much; it choked him. 

“What if I do? I don’t have the right to make my own choices? Live my own life?” He ignored the shock on Link’s face, pushed on recklessly. “What if I want to do something without you trailing along behind me, huh?” 

Link exploded. “This was your idea! To go to school together, to try and do something _big and awesome!_ You’re the one who’s always going off about what _we’re_ going to do, together, and now you want me to leave you alone? Let you go off and be a big shot on some campus without me _trailing along_?” he was shouting, eyes wide, accusing. “You were the one who was so sure we were gonna do everything together. The blood oath was your idea, Rhett. It was all your idea!”

Rhett rolled his eyes, couldn’t stop himself despite the growing pit in his stomach. “Is that what this is about? Some oath we made, like, two years ago?” He scoffed. “You always take everything so seriously. Why can’t you just move on, let us make our own choices? What if I just need some space?” Rhett was sick with himself and he couldn’t stop. “Friends don’t do this, Link! Friends don’t make grand plans together and follow each other around like puppies their whole life! That was kid stuff, man, _grow up_.” 

He felt cold and cruel and forceful, full of a wicked power that was about to destroy everything. He tried to control his breathing, ignore the trembling of his hands. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

Rhett could practically see the fury shimmering beneath Link’s skin. His face was red, flushed with embarrassment or anger or both, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. “Right, kid stuff, got it.” He gasped as if he couldn’t catch his breath. “Guess it’s totally fucking childish that I carried this around for two years, then.” He reached behind himself, into his back pocket. Rhett’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he pulled out his wallet. Realization dawned in a hot swoop as Link pulled out a folded piece of paper, edges torn, and threw it at Rhett’s feet. 

Rhett saw the dark brown stain that bled through the paper, the curve of Link’s awkward left-handed signature, and had a sudden vision of huge rocks and the smell of cows and the hot drip of their mingling blood. “I guess I should have realized you were all bluster, just full of shit. Why can’t I just let this go, let you do your own thing?” He blinked, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down rapidly, and Rhett could hardly breathe.

And right before Rhett’s eyes, Link deflated, all the anger seeped out of him; he folded in on himself, looked at the ground. “I don’t know why. What do you want me to do? You’re my best friend. You’re one of the most important people in my life.” He looked up, pink-cheeked in shame, now. “Do you really want to do this? Go our separate ways, all alone?” His voice dropped so low Rhett could barely hear him. “Please, man, don’t make me do this alone. If you’re mad, just punch me or something, please. I’d rather have broken bones than just this _silence_. I don’t know what I did, but don’t make me do this by myself. Anything would hurt less. Please.”

And with that whispered plea, all Rhett’s defenses melted away. Seeing Link vulnerable, his hurt and betrayal and devotion laid bare at Rhett’s feet, his ramparts crumbled; it was as if they been made of straw all along.

He rushed toward Link with fire at his heels, his mind trailing ten paces behind his body. He saw Link flinch as he strode forward, as if he was expecting Rhett to strike him, but he didn’t stop. Before he let himself think, before either of them knew what was happening, Rhett kissed him. 

He brought their mouths together fiercely, pulled their bodies close, wrapped a strong hand around the back of Link’s head, buried fingers in his hair. All the anguish and uncertainty that had twisted in him the last few weeks vanished at the point of contact, the velvet crush of soft, full lips. Link froze, stunned, made an urgent noise in the back of his throat; before he could pull away Rhett brought his other hand up to Link’s jawline, without any strength, just wanting a few more seconds of contact before he surely received a fist to the face. 

As quickly as Rhett had drawn them together, Link jerked them apart. He put both hands up to Rhett’s chest as if to push him away, but kept his palms resting there, on either side of Rhett’s racing heart. Link’s face was cut into sharp angles, etched deep with shock. Rhett wanted to look away but couldn’t, couldn’t bring himself to cut the taut string between them. His chest was tight, too tight, he was fighting for each breath, and he prepared himself, as the seconds stretched on, for the complete destruction of trust and friendship built up over twelve years. Link still hadn’t moved, just stared and breathed hard. They were no more than six inches apart but it felt like a mile, and Rhett searched Link’s face for a clue to his reaction; shouldn’t he be yelling by now, striking Rhett with foot and fist, spitting slurs and storming away? But Link just gaped at him, eyes wide and bright. Then his eyes flicked down, just for a second, to rest on Rhett’s lips.

In that moment, Rhett saw something in Link shift, and in Link’s eyes he saw _hunger._ Rhett, shaking, inched his head back down again, and when he saw Link’s eyes flutter closed he pressed their mouths together with fire, with fever; hot and reckless. Rhett’s heart leapt and they kissed, and kissed, and thunder roared around them and the ground cracked open, the earth readjusting to this new and wild thing, nature wrestling with itself to form a new world, a fresh reality. They were right, his father and his pastor and his own beating heart, they saw something Rhett had refused to acknowledge until the thought of no longer having it drew his need to the surface like a bruise. 

Link pulled away, slowly. “Rhett,” he panted, shaking, delirious, “Rhett. What are we doing?” He whispered, reverent in the sanctuary they had created. Link’s trembling hand came up to Rhett’s face, so tender, so pure and heavenly, Rhett struggled to hold back the sob that welled up in his throat. He didn’t open his eyes, kept them clamped shut as he rubbed his lips along Link’s jaw, as if opening them would invite in every bad thing, every terrifying specter that loomed just outside his vision. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He brought his mouth back up, even with Link’s but not touching, breath ghosting across each other’s lips as lightning crackled between them. Then both of Link’s hands were on Rhett’s face, soft, like in them he held a fawn or baby bird; like Rhett was a small, nervous creature who would run away if startled. The plea of that gentle touch bade Rhett to open his eyes, to look straight ahead into blue eyes blazing hard, holding his gaze; he couldn’t look away.

“Please don’t stop,” Link breathed, wanton, fire coursing through the words. 

And with that request Rhett bent back down, eyes closing tight again, mouths pressing together wildly, obscenely. Link’s mouth became the focal point of all creation, the sun and stars surely orbiting around their bodies as they pulled each other closer, love and fear and white hot lust thrumming through Rhett’s veins, making him reckless and wild. Desperate to connect their bodies at all points, Rhett finally lost himself to it, let go of his restraint and used his full strength to lift Link clear off his feet, push him up against the wall behind them, shove a thigh between both of Link’s, practically seating the man on his knee. If Link found the move out of line, his body showed no sign of it. He wound his arms only more tightly around Rhett’s neck and shoulders, rocked his hips against Rhett’s thigh, urgent and unashamed, small groans and gasps escaping, lost completely in the touch. Rhett’s chest cracked open as he drew out that desire, the hard proof of lust digging into his thigh, fueling him further. He pressed himself fully against Link, probably bruising every inch of his back against the rough wood, but neither paid any mind; it felt like fitting tribute for the realization of what had always lain beneath their relationship, that pull, that bond; the reason so obvious now in this moment. 

Rhett couldn’t pull away, not even after days or months or years spent kissing desperately, eyes shut so tightly, putting off the moment when words would have to justify actions, when they would have to reckon with this new world that had sprung up beneath their feet as they kissed trees and flowers into bloom. Rhett didn’t want to face it, fear eventually holding him to his friend more than need, and he felt Link’s impatience to be released, his movements seeking more comfort than sensation, but Rhett kept holding tight, mouth moving, more slowly but with no less urgency. He felt desperately afraid. 

Eventually, Link turned his head and broke their kiss with an open, wet sound. They breathed heavy, spent, miles run as they had clung together. Rhett could feel his friend’s breath on his cheek, unsteady, rustling the soft hairs along his jawline. It felt so good he wanted to cry, a joyous lamentation piercing through the rapidly cooling air. He didn’t cry. He kept his eyes shut still, afraid of what the world would look like if he opened them. Eventually Link’s forefinger tapped, once, twice, against his cheek, and he braved opening them, ever so slightly, keeping only that face in his vision, not yet allowing the outside world to steal his focus. Link’s face was open, heart laid out in his bright eyes and swollen lips. He held trust and hope and desire in that expression, and Rhett’s whole body quaked at the weight of it — he saw all of it, every ounce of Link’s self, and Rhett knew he could either take it, bring it close to his chest, keep it safe and sound, or not. Hide and cower like a boy, afraid of the fire in Link’s eyes, a fire that Rhett himself had laid the kindling for. He was terrified, but as he took in Link’s expression, he knew, deep in his bones: he would not fail his best friend. He would stand here, shaking but strong. He would not run from this, not for every ounce of his father’s pride or the splendor of Heaven’s gates. He would stand, solid and scared, firm and afraid. 

Link stared at him, eyes wide and slightly unfocused. “Um. That wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.” 

Rhett shook his head, pressed his lips together. “Me neither.” 

“I really thought you were going to hit me.” Link closed his eyes, laughed once, more breath than sound. “Is this what all this was about? These past few weeks, ignoring me and everything? Were you … thinking about this?” 

Rhett swallowed hard, eyes still locked on Link’s. He nodded, slowly, hesitantly, even now afraid to admit his struggles of the past few weeks. The confusing knot in his stomach returned. He couldn’t see past this moment, couldn’t bring himself to imagine what would happen next. He released his hold on Link, and he slid down the wall slowly until his feet were planted on the floor once again. 

“Have you ever thought about this?” Rhett asked, suddenly incredulous at Link’s response, his apparent lack of turmoil.

Link just shook his head, expression still firm, eyes luminous and clear. “No, I haven’t. But, Rhett,” He paused. “This feels good. It feels really, really good. I mean — ” Another pause. “Are you ok?”

Rhett couldn’t even begin to process the word ‘ok.’ He had never felt further from ok, the whole world backwards and upside down. But at the same time, Link was right — this felt _good._ Link felt so damn good, wrapped around him, wanton, gorgeous (so gorgeous, honestly, a person should not look so wonderful in such pitiful lighting), and it felt right. It felt so, so right. His heart was pounding, his whole being firmly planted in this new world, the world that existed solely of Link’s mouth on his. He hesitated.

“I don’t know. I wanted this so much, Link, I tried so hard to ... to stop myself from thinking about you. From imagining you like this. I tried so hard and it wasn’t enough.” He breathed deeply, in and out. “I didn’t even consider that you might want this.” He paused. “Do you want this?” 

Link pressed his lips together. “I mean. It’s not … I don’t even know what to think. I’ve never ...” He looked like he was at a loss, but Rhett understood — he couldn’t even wrap his head around it, and he’d been fretting and struggling for weeks and weeks.

Rhett breathed in deeply. “Don’t say anything.” Link looked up in surprise. “I mean. If you’re ok then I’m ok, I guess. Just … think about it.” 

Link scoffed, but not unkindly. “Think about whether or not I want to keep kissing the hell out of my best friend, you mean?” 

Rhett laughed, lightly, timidly. “Yeah. That.” He pressed their foreheads together, breathing deeply. “We’ll talk about it later. If you want to talk about it, I mean. We can just pretend this didn’t happen, if you want.” 

Link laughed out loud at that, throwing his head back against the wood. “Yeah, I don’t think I could do that if I wanted to. It’s pretty much going to be the only thing I think about for a while.” 

Rhett’s chest swelled, but so differently than the tight, hot twist he’d become accustomed to over the last few weeks. It felt light and sweet and full of promise. “Ditto.” He took in another deep breath, looking down at the fading light painting Link’s face, putting off every sinister thought for just breathing in this one perfect moment. 

Link mirrored his sigh. “I should … I mean. I probably have to go. I’m super late for supper.” Despite his words, he made no attempt to move. Instead, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Rhett’s chest. “But … did you mean it?” He spoke so quietly that Rhett felt the words against his ribs rather than hearing them. He frowned. 

“Mean what?”

Link fisted his hands in the hem of Rhett’s shirt. “Y’know. When you said you wanted to make your own choices? Without me … trailing behind you?” 

Rhett wrapped his arms around Link’s shoulder and squeezed. “No, no. Link, not even a little bit.” He sighed and rested his chin atop Link’s head. “I was scared. You were right, I was … trying to push you away. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Link swallowed and nodded his head slightly. “You sure?”

Rhett pulled back and tried to meet his eyes. “Yes. I’m sure, I’m so sure.” He pressed his forefinger to Link’s chin, gently urging him to meet his eyes. Link looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Link, I … I don’t ever want you to leave me alone, I don’t wanna be anywhere you aren’t. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just … an idiot.”

Link swallowed, and closed his eyes again. “Ok.”

Rhett breathed out deeply in relief. “Ok.” They stayed pressed together tightly for another minute, the light around them fading quickly into dusk. 

Finally, Link sighed and pulled out of Rhett’s arms. “I really should go. My mom’s gonna freak out, I told her I’d be gone twenty minutes.” 

Rhett nodded, wrapping his arms around himself, the cold rushing back without the warm press of Link’s body. “Yeah, ok,” he said quietly.

Link turned and pulled open the heavy door; Rhett saw something out of the corner of his eye. “Wait!” He called. He reached down and lifted the still-folded paper off the dust covered ground. “Don’t forget this.” 

The smile that spread across Link’s face was small, but sweet as springtime. “Yeah, can’t lose that — unlike someone else.” 

Link reached his hand out to take it; Rhett placed it in his hand but didn’t release it, pressed their hands together and pulled Link closer. He brought their hands up to his chest, joined with the oath made in blood between them, and met Link’s eyes with significance. “I mean it. Don’t lose it.” He swallowed thickly. “No matter what happens, this still stands. No matter what you … decide, we’re still in this together.” Rhett meant the words desperately, and prayed with all the faith in his body that he would make good on them. “We’ll talk later.” He leaned down and pressed one soft, tender kiss to Link’s lips, pulling back after just a moment, smiling when Link chased after him. “We'll talk tomorrow.” 

Link nodded. “Ok. Tomorrow.” 

They walked out of the barn together, into the cold air, the last remnants of light disappearing behind the houses that lined the street. Link turned to look at him and smile as he walked back to his car; Rhett stood in the middle of the street until he drove away, eyes still bright even as darkness enveloped him. 

Rhett ran up the walk, took the front steps two at a time, biting his bottom lip against the joy bubbling up in his chest. He stopped short at the sight of his father in the open doorway of the house, arms crossed over his chest. His heart stuttered, and he held his breath.

“Where did you run off to out there? I saw Link pull up, it looked like you argued,” his father said, concern draping itself over his features. 

Rhett’s pulse pounded as he fought to keep a casual expression. “Yeah, um. We had a fight but we, uh, went back by the barn. Didn’t want to be yelling in the middle of the street. Making a scene, you know.” He cleared his throat, shrugged a shoulder.

His father nodded. “That was wise. No need to air your dirty laundry in public.” He paused, uncrossed his arms. “You work yourselves out?”

Rhett nodded slowly, fighting down the memory of Link’s mouth on his, Link’s hands twisted in his shirt, the gleam in Link’s eye as they parted. “Yeah, we did. We just needed to … hash it out. But we’re good, now. Everything’s fine.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

They stood for a moment, just looking at each other, and a small smile turned up the corners of his father’s mouth. “Glad to hear it. Now go wash up for supper, don’t keep your mother waiting.”

Rhett nodded again and pushed past him down the hall. His heartbeat raced while he washed up, while he sat at the table, while he made polite conversation with his parents. His cheeks flushed as he lay in bed and brushed his fingers over his lips; they still burned hot with the memory of Link’s pressed against them. His closed his eyes against the deep ocean in his chest, did not swim against the tide but dove deep down into it. Without conscious thought he whispered his nightly prayers, the standard invocation tonight mixed with wild praise and gratitude. While the worries of sin and righteousness lingered somewhere along the edges of his mind, his chest felt light with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spoke about this more in detail over on [tumblr](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com/post/160807122260/safe-and-sound-the-scoop), but after this chapter, Safe and Sound will be on hiatus. I have some personal things to catch up on, as well as more work on the story, so it will probably be a couple of months before this continues. But keep an eye out, because we'll definitely be back. I'm so grateful and moved by all the love and support you've given for not only this story but for myself, you can't even know how much it means to me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while. I'm sure most of you were sure I abandoned this work to fic purgatory ... and for a minute, you were right. But as it turns out, I just couldn't let it go, and I've been re-energized to see this baby through to the finish. I can't promise regular updates, and I'm not even sure when the next chapter will be up (as it isn't written), but I promise that I want to keep working on this, and I'm doing it for myself first. It's good to be back. 
> 
> ___________________
> 
> That being said! This chapter has some warnings attached! There is a scene that takes place during a church service on a Sunday, and while there is no verbal or physical violence or bigotry directed towards any character, it is rough on our poor Rhett. I know that being in church settings and especially religion-based guilt and shame is a sensitive topic for some of you, I'm going to warn you to tread lightly if this could be triggering for you. I'm going to include a summary of events in the end notes so you can determine whether the scene might be too much for you. I'm also happy to discuss the story, plot events, and my perspective on things privately if that will make you feel more comfortable. I'm [the-crepes-of-wrath](https://the-crepes-of-wrath.tumblr.com) over on tumblr, so please don't hesitate to message me if you have any concerns. 
> 
> There are two songs referenced in the chapter: God Is In Control by Twila Paris (which is a delightfully terrible worship song from the 90s) and It Is Well With My Soul, a traditional hymn. If you want to listen along to the song while it's playing in the final scene, [this version is comparable.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zY5o9mP22V0)
> 
> Thank you all for being so understanding and patient. I hope this is even a tiny bit worth the wait.

Five days passed, and they didn’t talk about it.  
   
They met in the back of Link’s truck the next morning, familiar and yet wildly new, and didn’t speak a word as they sat, pressed together from shoulder to knee, fingertips brushing together in the hidden space between them. They blushed when their eyes met, and looked away, grinning. Rhett felt the apples of his cheeks round out and stay that way, felt his smile grow wider every time Link snuck a glance at him when he thought Rhett’s head was turned; he felt he might burst with the hope and affection in his chest. When Link nudged him and said, begrudgingly, that it was time to go inside, he nodded and followed. They brushed shoulders as they walked, eyes straight ahead so their blush wouldn’t give them away. The moment they stepped through the doors into the farthest stairwell, Link pushed him into an alcove underneath the stairs and kissed him breathless, kissed him and kissed him, hands slipping inside Rhett’s open coat and gripping his hips, and Rhett felt fire burst from where they rested. They pulled away as the first bell rang, out of breath and luminous. They kept their eyes down as they walked into the hallway filling up with students; Link hip-checked him as they separated for homeroom. Rhett couldn’t look at him for fear of the tenderness on his face. They didn’t talk about it.

Rhett had practice after school, and homework, and dinner. He daydreamed through all of it, and when Link called just before ten, he couldn’t help his smile despite the frown he earned from his mother, wondering why Link was calling at such a late hour.  
   
“Hi,” Rhett said, biting his lip against a wide grin.  
   
“Hi,” Link returned, voice breathy and low. The line was quiet for a few moments, and Rhett imagined Link’s heart was beating as quickly as his while he struggled to think of something to say.  
   
“Want to meet at the old church on Main Street tomorrow morning? Instead of at school?” Link’s voice was quiet, conspiratorial, and Rhett matched his tone.  
   
“Uh, sure. Why?”  
   
Link scoffed. “Privacy, man.” Rhett heard the laughter in his low voice.  
   
“Oh! Yes! Yes, I mean. Sure, yeah. Cool, cool.” Rhett’s cheeks warmed, any semblance of nonchalance destroyed.  
   
Link snorted. “Smooth. I’ll see you then?” Rhett could hear the smile in his voice, could see it in his mind.  
   
“Yeah. See you then.”

The next morning Rhett pulled off the road into the dirt next to the abandoned church, lining his car up next to Link’s. He looked left, met Link’s eyes through their car windows, and chuckled as Link scrambled out of his car, forgetting to unbuckle himself and getting caught in the straps. He snorted a good-natured laugh and followed suit, heart leaping when Link’s hand gripped his firmly, pulling him around to the side of the building not visible from the road. Rhett didn’t hesitate before taking Link’s face in his hands, soft and sure, and pressing an urgent kiss to his lips. He breathed in the moment, the smell of crisp autumn air and damp leaves, Link’s hair and skin; he committed it all to memory as he pushed his slight trepidation further back into his mind. They breathed, and they kissed, and they were terribly late for homeroom, and they didn’t talk about it.  
   
They didn’t talk about it the next day, or the day after that. They crept into corners and against far walls, pressing lips and hips together in shadow and in secret, and Rhett ignored the growing tightness in his chest. He basked in their moments together, thrilled and paralyzed by the intensity of his emotions, wild and unbidden. Link’s eyes closed tight, hands fisted in his coat or his shirt, mouth warm and responsive, made his heart shake in his chest, made him feel heavenly and monstrous. They didn’t talk about it.  
   
Friday afternoon, tucked in a narrow hallway between the art classrooms, Rhett cracked. “Could we maybe hang out tomorrow? And, I don’t know. Figure some stuff out?” He hesitated, Link’s mouth still inches from his, body alert in anticipation.  
   
Link smiled and ran his hands up Rhett’s torso, resting on either side of his breastbone. “I’m heading to my dad’s tonight. My step-mom’s birthday. I didn’t tell you?”  
   
Rhett smiled, sideways. “Can’t imagine why you forgot. It’s like you’ve been distracted or something.”  
   
“Mmm, distracted. That’s a word for it.” Link leered at him, exaggeratedly licking his lips. “I’ll be back Sunday afternoon. We could hang out then?”  
   
Rhett pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah. I mean. This,” he gestured weakly between them, “is, you know. It’s awesome. But, uh, we never got to talk about … you, or, what you …” He drifted off, rubbing at the back of his neck. “What you thought about … everything.”  
   
Link nodded, keeping his eyes on Rhett’s, expression turning serious. “Yeah. We can do that. I’ll call you Sunday, when I get home?” He looked down at his watch. “I think you’re late.”  
   
Rhett grabbed Link’s wrist, twisted it quickly to see the time. “Shit. Coach’ll have me doing suicides until I retch.” He took in a deep breath. “See you Sunday?”  
   
Link smirked, nodded. “Sunday.”  
   
Rhett started to race down the hallway, but quickly turned back around to press their lips together. Link giggled, and it was so endearing that Rhett kissed him twice more, until Link pushed him away. “Go, you perv!”  
   
Rhett winked before he finally turned away. “You know it!” He yelled as he jogged down the hallway, the sound of Link’s laughter fading behind him.

____________________

  
 

Rhett played through practice with half his mind, and all the thoughts he’d pushed away began to break through the surface. Whenever he was with Link his thoughts of sin flew away; all he could focus on were Link’s hands, his mouth, the bright light in his eyes as he laughed through kisses. But when Link walked away, the anxious static in his mind returned — he couldn’t bear to see the cover of his Bible staring him down, so he had pushed it under his bed; despite this it still haunted him. He didn’t want to throw his newfound spiritual peace away, but he was terrified; of disappointing Adam, of his father’s anger, of wrath and damnation. Knowing Link would be away all weekend, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to keep his fears at bay. He closed his eyes and ran down the court, throwing himself into wholeheartedly into his drills, making passes and sinking three-pointers through pure muscle memory. He saw the furrow of Coach Gauge’s brow and tried to shake himself into the present.  
   
By the time practice was over, he was exhausted. He had pushed himself harder than he had since the season had begun, and his teammates clapped him on the shoulder as they all made their way off the court.  
   
“McLaughlin! Hang back a minute.” Coach Gauge called out to him. He nodded at the other guys and turned back the other way, meeting his coach at the sideline.  
   
“Coach?” Rhett asked, still struggling to catch his breath.  
   
“I confirmed with the recruiter from Asheville today — he’ll be at the game on Monday. He’s looking forward to seeing your progress from last season.” Rhett nodded, stomach lurching. He had spared no thought for athletic recruiters for weeks, his conflict over Link pushing all other thoughts from his mind. He swallowed thickly.  
   
Coach continued. “No reason to worry, son. You’ve got a great season ahead of you, and if you push on Monday like you did today, you’ll be in fine shape.” Rhett nodded again, pressing his lips together. “Make sure your father’s at the game. The recruiter’ll want to talk to you afterwards and I know he’ll want to be there for that conversation.”  
   
Rhett kept nodding, throat dry. He coughed. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”  
   
Coach Gauge patted him on the shoulder twice before sending him on his way to the locker room. Most of the other guys had changed and left already; he sighed and rested his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. He breathed in slowly and out all in a huff, his heart pounding. He closed his eyes, and thought of how his hands fit around Link’s waist, and breathed.

____________________

 

The weekend crept inside of Rhett as he expected it to — each moment he spent alone, his thoughts grew more and more conflicted, his guilt rose and threatened to engulf him. He moved through the motions thoughtlessly, and laid in bed a long time Saturday night, forcing his mind into silence with restless sleep.

Sunday morning came with a pit in his stomach; how could he sit through a church service with the memory of Link’s mouth burning in him? How could he look Adam in the eye when the mere thought of pressing Link against the cool wall of the barn caused his whole body to flush?

Maybe he could fake a cold. Or a stomach bug. Even as the thoughts floating into his mind he shook his head at himself; he had not missed a church service without proof of a fever in years. He hadn’t even tried, as one look from his mother enough to kill any pleas in his throat. Maybe he would simply burn to ash upon crossing the threshold of the sanctuary and wouldn’t have to sit through anything at all.

He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, groaning in a distinctly undignified way. He probably wouldn’t spontaneously combust as soon as he walked in. Satan probably wouldn’t do him the dignity of sweeping in like Batman and ushering him into the Pit. Probably. He’d have to man up, face his parents and God, and ignore the wickedness that grew in him like a thorny vine.

He washed and dressed in a fog. He could hear his parents moving around the house, without hurry; they had some time yet. Rhett stood in the middle of his bedroom, one sock on and his shirt unbuttoned, scrambling for the memory of where he’d thrown his good belt when he took it off last Sunday. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He took a moment merely observing the swirling lights and colors, emptying his mind in the darkness, and counted to ten before he opened his eyes again. He blinked at the sudden brightness.

“Pull it together, McLaughlin,” he spoke into the empty room. “It’s one hour. No one will know you’ve been frenching your best friend just by looking at you.” His breath stuttered a bit. “Just get through it.”

He hadn’t expected his pep talk to have any effect, but he did feel slightly less disjointed than he had a few minutes ago. He turned and pulled his belt out of his bedside table, buttoned and tucked in his shirt, and put on his left sock. He stood at his door for an extra minute, just breathing, and when his mom yelled up the stairs to shake his tail feathers, he flung it open and bounded down the stairs. “I’m ready, I’m ready. Is there breakfast?”

____________________

 

Rhett stood in the doorway of Lillington Presbyterian Church, a doorway he had passed through dozens of times, frozen. His parents were already in the narthex, chatting with the usual ushers and grabbing worship programs, hadn’t yet realized he wasn’t directly behind him. People milled around, exchanging friendly small talk before service began. He shoved his hands in his pockets and balled them into fists. _You absolutely, without question, will not turn to dust. You won’t be sucked down into Hell. Come on, McLaughlin, you’re smarter than this._

He took a deep breath and walked in, telling himself that he didn’t breathe a small sigh of relief as he passed through without incident. He walked quickly to catch up with this parents, who were already halfway down the aisle in the sanctuary. Rhett breathed quietly but deeply, trying to calm his racing heart, as he walked to the pew exactly halfway between the door and the altar, on the right side of the room, and slid in next to his parents. He sat right on the aisle, like he did every Sunday, and tried to focus his vision on the details of the familiar room — the deep green of the worn pew cushions, the glinting silver organ pipes lining the wall behind the altar, the smell of dozens of women’s perfume mixing into a scent that was comforting in its terribleness.

He tried to focus on how he normally felt in this room, the peace and the fire and the intellectual and spiritual challenge, of connecting with God and the community around him. He pushed his sin into a tiny corner of his mind, his transgressions unsuitable for this time and space, compartmentalizing the part of him that kissed Link in the fading daylight far away from the thoughtful, righteous person he was meant to be here. He closed his eyes and imagined putting all those illicit moments together in a small box and shutting it tight, putting the box into a closet and closing the door. Those moments didn’t belong to him right now, they didn’t belong to the Rhett who played guitar for the youth group and who Pastor Adam saw as smart and self-aware. He could separate himself, in this moment, in this space; he had no choice.

He nodded and greeted people when spoken to, but if his parents noticed he was quieter than normal, they didn’t bring it up. His father chatted with their neighbors and friends, proclaiming loudly that a university recruiter would be coming just to see Rhett play tomorrow; he smiled tightly as his stomach lurched. He put all his effort into being the good son, the good athlete, the good Christian boy. He was suddenly desperately relieved that Link was away today, and sent a thank you to the ceiling that he wouldn’t be distracted by Link’s presence. He had a feeling Link wouldn’t find the situation nearly as distressing.

He straightened up in his seat as Mrs. Meyer, the pianist, began the procession, and Pastor Woods and Adam walked onto the altar, facing the congregation. The choir rose to their feet, and the congregation followed suit. As the room filled with the sounds of completely ordinary people singing imperfectly, Rhett felt small parts of himself loosen, slowly, and yet could not completely fall into it. He sang along without thought, tightly gripping the program where the song lyrics were printed — _God is in control, we believe that his children will not be forsaken._ He focused on God’s power instead of his own foul deceit, and pushed all conscious thoughts from his mind.

He held himself together this way through the bulk of the worship service, sitting and standing and repeating liturgy the same way he shot a basketball; with the unthinking surety of having done it countless times before. He shook hands with his neighbors and friends and parents and wished the peace of Christ upon them, not daring to allow himself to fully receive it in kind. He did not allow himself to engage his mind with the sermon, but allowed the pastor’s words of assurance that God creates all things new, that every day He crafts a new and vibrant heart in each of his believers to move right past him. He put on a face of attentiveness and let the words flow around him like water, like the wind; he listened but did not allow himself to hear it. He sat, almost peaceful, relieved that his careful efforts were working.

It worked so well, in fact, that he was entirely unprepared for the moment his restraint failed him.

It was the third Sunday of the month, which meant that after Pastor Woods finished his sermon, he moved to the long table where the elements of Holy Communion sat. Rhett hadn’t counted on taking Communion, hadn’t factored it into his plan, but he steeled himself to take the feast of which he was wholly unworthy. Staying in his seat would arouse too much suspicion, so he waited, ready, while Pastor Woods said the prayer over the bread and grape juice, and the choir took their places behind him once more.

The church had been favoring contemporary worship songs over the past year, and Rhett had gotten used to leaving the hymnal untouched on the pew in favor of songs he could hear on most radio stations. It meant he was caught unaware when old but familiar piano chords began and Lindsay Burke, who sat three seats behind him in French class, stepped forward from the choir to sing.

This moment was usually one of Rhett’s favorite of the service, when the music playing and the flow of people moving towards the front of the room synced, and it felt holy and sacred as he held the small wafer in his hands, and tipped the cup into his mouth; today those same things broke through the walls he’d constructed and filled him with dread. He watched the people in the pews in front of him file out into the aisle, and he heard Lindsay’s soft and lilting voice proclaim that Christ had regarded her helpless estate, and shed his own blood for her soul, and he felt his own soul crack open.

His mother gently nudged him when he hesitated at their turn to step forward; he wiped his palms on his slacks and braced himself. He stepped into the aisle as the strains of the piano flowed through him, and Lindsay continued to taunt him, positively shouting that it was well with her soul, that it was well, _it was well_ , and his stomach sank like an anchor. He looked to the table with dread and begged forgiveness for what he was about to do, that he would dare to approach this sacred table with the memory of his own transgressions staining him black.

It is not well, he thought, as he took the wafer from the pastor wordlessly. It was not well at all. _I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgivemeforgivemeforgiveme_ his mind screamed as he placed the body of Christ into his mouth. His hand shook slightly as he took the cup, and lifted it to his mouth; he pretended to drink but did not allow one drop to touch his tongue. He was unworthy of the blood spilled for him; he realized with a start that he had not only failed God but Link as well, dragging them both into the depths of sin. He couldn’t believe his selfishness and short-sightedness, and he beat himself to a pulp as he walked through the multicolored light that poured in from the windows. He sat back down in the pew, hands folded in his lap, hating himself in a way he could not have previously imagined.

He sat, pressing his hands together tightly as the song finished, as the pastor spoke the benediction and instructed them to go in peace. He turned to his mother with a grimace, and lied to her face that he had a headache, and would he be able to sit in the car while they said their good-byes? She squinted at him, searching his face, and agreed. “I’ll make your excuses, baby, we won’t be long.”

He nodded and walked as quickly as he could out of the doors, down the front steps, and across the street to where the car sat. He wrenched the back door open and threw himself into the seat, nearly slamming it behind him. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until the swirling colors overtook the blackness, and he breathed, and breathed, and he counted to ten again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: here be spoilers!  
> ___________________________________
> 
>  
> 
> Rhett experiences doubt after continuing a physical relationship with Link. Rhett attends his church with his parents on Sunday, and during the course of the service (which is depicted in detail, including music, liturgy, prayer, and holy communion) he begins to experience extreme guilt, shame, and self-hatred. He is convinced his actions have damned both himself and Link. The chapter ends without resolution of these feelings. 
> 
> If you feel like this might too much for you to read, please take care of yourself, and contact me if you'd like to talk more about it.


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